The Manager
by Magali1
Summary: *Complete 6/22/2014* Future fic; Romantic-Comedy-ish; Lyla has a new job, which she's not sure she's very good at, which she tries to juggle while distancing herself from her Dillon life and friends; meanwhile, Tim copes with Lyla's return during a steady period in his life. Vince, Jess, Landry, Coach and Tami, Billy, Becky, Buddy, Jason, Smash and Tyra all appear.
1. The Tackle

**A/N:**I really don't know where this came from. I probably saw the movie "Draft Day" too many times. Either way, I wrote it, I'm posting it, and it has potentially be a longer fic. Anyways, enjoy :)

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**1. The Tackle**

My, my, my, Lyla thought, stepping into the large office, holding a small box full of her personal effects. She traveled light; she rarely had an office as big as a closet, alone something like this. My first apartment could fit in here, she thought, swallowing hard and looking around the space. She set the box on the desk. It was nice. Very nice. She walked around the edge of it and kept her hands on the sides, staring down at the smooth brown cover.

I'm the only one here; it was a little odd, to be in such a large office complex and be one of the only people there. I wanted to beat the rush, the novelty and curiosity that was bound to follow with her hiring. I'm an executive of one of the highest levels in national football, she thought, smiling in spite of herself. I have to be proud of that. "Here we go," she murmured, lifting the lid off the box. She reached in and began to take out the little mementos she carried with her. She kicked off her favorite pair of Christian Louboutin stilettos, cracking her toes as they curled in the soft carpet. It would be easier when she stood on her chair, as she was doing now, nailing in her diplomas behind her desk. Normally she avoided such obvious displays of bragging; she'd have preferred to put them off to the side, rather inconspicuous, but not right now. Right now she had to show to the doubters that she was smart. She deserved this.

"Ms. Garrity?"

"Ah!" she yelped, sliding a bit on the executive chair. She grabbed hold of the side of the window, steadying herself with one hand while she used the other to clutch at her chest, her eyes wide. "Oh my God! Clinton!"

Her assistant of the last six years stood in the doorway, completely unamused at her almost death. Nor did he apologize for it as he walked towards her, picking up her heels. "You shouldn't wear these with that suit, it makes you look like you're trying too hard," he said, dropping the heels on her desk. He nodded to the diplomas. "Your MBA goes on top, it's in the middle."

Thank you favorite assistant, she thought, dropping the hammer on the glass desk. Where it cracked. She looked up; Clinton was eyeing the crack before darting his eyes to her. "I'll fix it," she lied.

"I'll get you a new desk," he said, making a note on his moleskin notepad. He carried the things everywhere. Lyla often wondered if his desk was full of used ones. He waved his hand to the door, answering her unasked question. "I knew you'd come in early to put all your little tchotchkes out."

"They are not tchotchkes!" They were mementos, she thought, setting a little Oakland raiders helmet on the bookcase beside her desk. She set another little Vanderbilt University helmet beside it and then added a picture of her and her dad when she graduated from Stanford.

Clinton rolled his eyes at the helmets. "You can keep the Vanderbilt one, but the Raiders one has to go."

"Why?"

"You are the VP of Administration for the Dallas Cowboys, you cannot have another team's helmet in your office."

"I'm not supporting them!" She'd basically boxed up all her Raiders gear, replacing it in her closet with Cowboys stuff. Even she wasn't that stupid and it was only for when she went to games. If she went at all. She might be an executive, but she still hated football. She avoided games as much as possible, unless she was courting someone. Unless she could get something out of it. She turned around, scowling at Clinton. Now he'd annoyed her, which was a record; today it had taken less than five minutes. "What do you want?"

"You have messages to return from agents, Sports Illustrated wants a feature, NFL Today wants a photoshoot, the public relations office wants to talk to you about capitalizing on breaking the glass ceiling, and Vince Howard called for you." Clinton pursed his lips, hiding a smile. "I heard he broke up with his girlfriend."

Clinton normally didn't care about her personal life unless he could derive some amusement from it, so she supposed this was considered amusing to him, being linked with the franchise quarterback of her old team. Besides, Vince was a friend and I heard wrong, she thought, smiling quickly at him. "Clinton mind your own business. Is that it?" She sat back in the chair, setting the box on the floor. It was six in the morning; she might as well get started on this now, the box could wait. "Ignore the press requests, push that through public relations. Schedule them for sometime this morning, whenever." She lifted her hand, taking the messages from the agents. Whatever, she thought crumpling up at least three in an instant. She wasn't talking to them.

Clinton set another message down in front of her, frowning. "I got a call from switchboard, they said that last night someone called asking for you, he didn't have the code to get to your private voicemail. They thought it was odd, so they just sent it to me instead of logging it for security to take a look at."

"Probably a stalker." Knowing her luck of course. She looked up. "So who was it? What'd he want?"

"He didn't leave a name or number, just said you'd know who he was if he said…" Clinton consulted his notebook, frowning deeply. It made his skin pull tighter around his bald head, which he cocked slightly. The movement also sent his bowtie slightly askew. He pushed his glasses up on his nose. "Tell Garrity she can't be in Dallas and not get me skybox tickets. I want my ten percent." He arched his eyebrows. "Ten percent? You got yourself a honey I don't know about?"

Ten percent. Good Lord. Lyla took the message, trying not to let her surprise show anywhere on her face. What the hell? She hadn't spoken to him in years and he was calling her and leaving messages at work like that? Why didn't he just get her through her father? She shook her head slightly, unable to stop the slight smile curving upward on her lips. Wow. As much as she wanted to get on this right now, she just couldn't think about it. It was her first day, it would rattle her, and he knew it. So she masked her face, so Clinton wouldn't get fancy ideas, lifting it up to him. "If I had a honey, you'd know about it Clinton. You know everything."

That seemed to satisfy him. "I do know everything," Clinton said, flouncing down to sit across from her. He crossed his legs, clicking his pen and set his notebook on his knee. "You have a breakfast meeting with Mr. Evanston at eight in his office, you're conferencing with the coordinators and Mr. Michaels at nine. You're broken down into twenty-five minute increments throughout the day. Mr. Street would like a lunch meeting at noon."

Mr. Street? "Move Mr. Street to eleven." Wait, in person meeting? She looked up, grinning. It had been a long time with him as well. "He's in Dallas?"

"Yup. He wants to talk to you about the contracts for Rutger, Hardy, and Johnson."

I want to talk to him about a contract with Williams, but she knew that that was off limits for now. She nodded, waving her hand, which was her 'I agree' sign. She flicked through her schedule. It was contract time. Lots of meetings. "What about Mr. Ellison?"

"Mr. Ellison is in Columbus, he's working out that new running back," Clinton said. He waited a moment and cleared his throat. "He'll call you when he's done."

My ass. Ellison had known her for years, ever since she was in Vanderbilt. He was playing with her. He'd shepherded her hiring, despite the fact that she'd only had ten years in the NFL. She was young, she was pretty, and she had a brain. She was the full package to him, but not necessarily to the rest of the world and he'd taken a big hit. He was distancing himself, didn't want to make it look personal, which it was. "I'll call him later."

Clinton snapped his book closed, glowering at her. "You know I don't like when you do that."

"I know. Get out of my office."

"Workplace abuse."

"I'll fire you."

"You've fired me twenty-five times in the last six years."

Lyla smiled sweetly at him, wiggling her fingers. "I love you, bye bye." She waited until he was gone, the frosted glass door swinging shut. She grabbed the phone the second he was out of earshot, punching in a number. This was going to piss him off extraordinarily, but she really didn't care. She waited a few more minutes before smiling as she heard a grunt of acknowledgement when the phone picked up.

A woman's voice in the background asked who it was. "No one," he grumbled, the sound of scuffling filtering through her handset. He was getting out of bed. "Who the hell is this?" he groaned.

"Do you want your ten percent or not?" She waited a second; he was silent. She smirked, spinning in her chair to stare out the window at the practice field below. She wanted to see his face, but imagining his shock would satisfy her for now. She nibbled her lower lip, keeping her voice even. Cool. I don't want him to think of this as a…well as a call that she wanted something more. She was in Dallas now. That was still five hours away. They'd agreed to remain friends, but she hadn't spoken to him in years. Probably about six, ever since she was head of legal in Oakland. "How are you?" she murmured.

"Good. How…how are you?"

"Good." She began to swing lightly back and forth in the chair, her bare toes digging into the carpet again. It was nice to hear his voice. "So…you sound like you're busy," she chuckled. She pushed her fingers through her hair, dropping her arm to the armrest of the chair. "New girlfriend?"

"Ah…longtime girlfriend. Melanie?"

Melanie, she thought, recognizing the name. Her dad had mentioned something about it. More times than naught. He didn't like any of the girls Tim dated and let her know. Let history record the day when my father actually wants me to get back together with Tim Riggins, even now. Even when she was as far up in the world and as successful as she'd been. She nibbled her lower lip, a nervous tic. She tried to keep emotion out of her voice, but all it did was make her sound incredibly cold and disinterested, which she wasn't. She just didn't want…she didn't want this to derail her. "You're still with her? Any plans for a ring?"

He stayed quiet. "No," he said. He cleared his throat. "Not yet. She's not…she doesn't want it yet."

"She's a teacher?"

"Yes. Elementary school."

I cannot possibly see you with an elementary school teacher. It seemed too…steady. Too perfect. Too quaint. That wasn't him at all. "So…when's the next time you're in Dallas? We should catch up." That was so lame. He knew it too.

"Well next time you're in Dillon you should stop by." Yeah, she thought, turning in her chair. She leaned her elbows on the desk, rubbing at her eyes. His next question surprised her. Seemed to surprise himself too, it came so far out of left field. "Are you dating Vince Howard?"

What? She blinked a few times. That was…wow. "Vince?" she exclaimed.

"I just heard…nevermind. I don't care if you are."

I'm not dating Vince Howard, she thought, shaking her head again slightly. "Ah…no, no I'm not. Vince is a…well he's kind of like a friend." They talked a bit. It was kind of nice to find someone from Dillon, maybe a different part of Dillon, but still Dillon, who was on the same team she worked with. They didn't interact in their jobs of course; she'd been one of the head lawyers for the team and he'd been quarterback. Not really on the same playing field, so to speak. Besides, Vince had a girlfriend, last she knew; which she really didn't, because she didn't keep up with the love lives of people on her team. So long as it didn't interfere with their playing. In fact, that reminded her, she thought, clearing her throat. "Sounds like you care," she commented, trying to keep it light. She ran her tongue over her teeth, smiling. "Little jealous of the quarterback there Thirty-Three?"

"Please," he scoffed. "Given the way he was playing last year you're better off without him."

"Sometimes quarterbacks have bad years."

"Are you going to get Williams this year?"

That was a change of subject, she thought, arching an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Williams. Smash," he said, impatient. "Best running back in the NFL, are you going to get him this year? I want to know."

"Well you're not going to know."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said, pressing the phone into her ear as she reached into her Hermes tote bag. She took out her checkbook, reaching for her calculator and did a quick calculation, and once she had the number, she scribbled out a check. She put a little smiley face in the memo portion, writing 'for beer and ladies' beside it and signed her name with flourish. "What's your address?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just do, tell me now." She spoke with him for a few more minutes, slipped the check into a Dallas Cowboys embossed envelope and wrote the address out. She stuck a stamp on it, said goodbye to him and good luck with Melanie and she disconnected. She got up, walking out into the bullpen, where Clinton's desk was. She passed him the envelope. "Stick this in the mail for today please."

"What is it?"

Lyla smiled, long and slow, walking backwards to her office and lifted her eyebrows. "Ten percent."

"Ten percent? What's that supposed to mean?"

"For beer and ladies of course."

Clinton shook his head, waving the envelope at her. "I don't like when you do things on your own. Your father called while you were on the phone. He said dinner's at seven on Friday, after practice is done."

Of course it is, she thought, shaking her head and scowling, walking back into her office. She closed the door, leaning against it, and folded her hands behind her, staring at the space. It was good that she was here, but…Lyla sighed, pushing away from the door and walked over to her desk, spinning back around in her chair as she made a note to contact Jess Merriweather. She had some matchmaking to do. And, she thought, sighing at the texts she'd received from Jason; she didn't tell Clinton that he had her personal cell phone and had no qualms using it to try to contact her about business. She stared at the last one he'd sent her. _I don't like Melanie. She's making him boring. Call me. _

Now I have to deal with my own matchmaker, she thought, shrugging into the jacket of her Chanel suit. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and tugged on the lapels. Game face, she thought, blowing out a hard breath. She gathered up her portfolio and her cell phone. Time to get to work. Tim Riggins, Jason Street, and every other Dillon straggler in her life could wait.


	2. The Block

**A/N:**Contrary to my last couple of fics, this one is going to be light and as stated in the summary, kind of romantic comedy-ish. It also tends to get a little farcical, with misunderstandings and the like. Just for a change of pace. I'm also going to delve into two new characters I've never written before, Vince and Jess, so bear with me on that front. Enjoy!

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**2. The Block**

"Tim, there's something here from the Dallas Cowboys, do you want me to open it?"

Tim snatched the envelope from Melanie's fingertips, staring at the embossed and shiny logo in the corner, along with the return address. It was from the training center. Executive offices. He studied the familiar loopy handwriting, nice and neat cursive. He smiled slightly, turning away from his girlfriend of the last six months. If this is what I think it is, he thought, still smiling as he opened up the envelope. He removed the check, staring down at the memo line.

_For beer and ladies._

God I love you, he thought idly; he ran his fingers over the signature and looked to the number in the little box. His eyebrows rose to his hairline. Well then. That's quite a lot of ten percent. He smiled, turning it over and picked up a pen, writing on the back of the check.

_Thanks but I'm set._

He folded it up and put it in a new envelope, copying the address from the corner of the envelope. He held it up, glancing at Melanie, who was unpacking groceries; she practically lived with him, although how that happened, he wasn't quite sure. To be honest, he wasn't sure how any of this happened with her. "You got a stamp?"

"Um, yeah…you still mail things?" she chuckled, reaching into her bag. She rummaged around for a few minutes, unearthing a stamp, which she passed to him, frowning a little. "Who sent you something from the Cowboys?" Her eyes widened and hse immediately did that bubbly thing he hated, where she jumped on her toes, clapped her hands a little, and giggled. "Are you getting a job with them!? I know you've been scouting, but Tim…"

"No, no job," he said, cutting her off. Melanie had…strange delusions for him. Sometimes she wanted him to pursue his contracting business to a point where he'd become some magnate; the other times, it felt like she was perfectly content to live a middle-class existence. He didn't have her figured out the way he'd have liked. "A friend works for them, she sent me something."

That had Melanie's head lifting up from unpacking groceries. Her pale blue eyes narrowed and she cocked her head, the floating blonde ponytail swinging over her shoulder. "She? I didn't…didn't know you had a…a friend there." Might as well have said a 'female friend.' Melanie knew he didn't have female friends other than Tyra. She cleared her throat. "I thought Tyra was a social worker."

"Tyra is a social worker, this is another friend." He set the envelope in his messenger bag, which he carried around like a total douchebag, but how else was he going to keep all his plans and invoices and stuff? He turned his head slightly, glancing over his shoulder at her. He swallowed hard; might as well get this over with. "Lyla Garrity? Um, Buddy's daughter? She…she works there."

Melanie dropped a bag of pasta beside the stove, next to a large pot she'd just set on top of it. She scowled. "Lyla Garrity? The VP?"

"Yeah, she…I don't know what she does, but she's a bigwig." I always knew she'd end up doing something big. Something amazing, he thought softly, reaching underneath a stack of paperwork and removed a newspaper clipping. There was a picture of her jabbing her finger at someone in a meeting, looking ferocious. "Dallas Cowboys Hire Texas Tyrant and Former Oakland Raiders Lawyer as VP." He folded it carefully, slipping it into his pocket. He turned around again; Melanie was staring straight at him. "What?"

"Lyla Garrity is an ex-girlfriend. She's not a friend."

How the hell did she know that? He shook his head, chuckling, trying to shake it off. "No, she's not," he lied. He looked up as the door opened; nice, saved by the door, he thought, hoping it was Billy or Becky. He'd never hoped for their presence before, but right now he didn't want to be grilled by his girlfriend on his ex-girlfriend. "Tyra," he said, startled. "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting for the long weekend, it's Memorial Day, or did you not know that?" She smiled over at Melanie, who was scowling; Melanie didn't get along with Tyra, because Tyra hated her. Of course, Tyra hadn't approved of any girl he'd dated in the last decade or so. She smiled sweetly. "Hello Melanie. Nice to see you."

"Tyra. Good afternoon."

Tyra ignored Melanie, who asked if she wanted to stay for dinner, and pointed towards him. "You should check out ESPN."

"You hate sports."

"I do, but I was on my way over here when Billy called me…apparently your phone is dead." Huh, he thought, pulling the phone out of his pocket. He shrugged. Yeah, apparently it was dead. He always forgot to charge it. He put it back, walking into the living room after her and leaned on the couch as she flicked the flatscreen above the fireplace on, changing the channel from whatever movie channel they'd been watching last night to ESPN.

The first thing he saw was a picture of Lyla and Vince Howard on the practice field in Oakland, laughing and smiling with ach other. Beneath their image was a headline '_Dallas VP Bringing QB Boyfriend Over?' _He glanced at Tyra, who was just staring at him. "What?"

"Did you know about this?"

"Did I know what? About Lyla and Vince? They're friends." Or so she said, but he couldn't tell that to Tyra with Melanie in shouting distance. He stepped closer to her, keeping his voice soft. "She said nothing. Said they were friends."

Tyra turned off the TV. "So you have been in touch." It wasn't a question. She stepped around him, walking out the backdoor and off the porch, away from the house where they could speak in private. She turned on her boot heel, crossing her arms over her chest and staring at him as he walked slowly up to her, his hands in his pockets. "Tim, Lyla Garrity is now five hours away from you, that's the closest she has been in over ten years. You're stable now. Please, please don't let this screw you up, especially now that she's all over the news."

So this was why you came back to town; it wasn't because of Memorial Day; that was just a good cover story. He glanced over his shoulder to the house. Things had been going well. Maybe too well. The other shoe had to drop. He looked over to her again; she was genuinely concerned. Tyra had a funny way of showing her concern, but she showed it. That was something. "I'm fine," he whispered; he was just tired. He reached for her, giving her a quick hug and let her go. "Thanks, but I'm fine."

"I worry for you," she murmured, letting go of him. She squeezed his hand, smiling up at her through the thick fringe of her practically black bangs. "Tim I love you and maybe I don't like Melanie…"

"Tyra," he groaned.

"Here me out! Okay, maybe I don't like Melanie, but you know, she's good for you. You're pretty boring, but I guess boring isn't such a bad thing in your case." She ran her tongue over her teeth, her forehead creasing slightly. That wasn't the full story; she was still thinking about something else. I love how protective my friends can get, but this is getting ridiculous. He arched an eyebrow, silently waiting for whatever she had left to say. "Are you going to go to Dallas to see her?" she whispered. The wind pulled at her hair, crossing her face in thick strands. She idly pushed it aside, the engagement ring she wore on her left hand sparkling brightly. "Tim."

I'm not going to Dallas…yet. "She's a friend," he said. I visit friends from time to time if my business happens to take me to where they happened to be. Her dad was still in Dillon; he still helped Buddy out. They were friends, he stressed again, letting go of her hand. "Tyra, thanks for the help, but I'm fine. Lyla Garrity is not my girlfriend and I don't want her to be."

The back door opened, Melanie calling out. "Dinner's ready. Tyra are you staying?"

"I have to go, but thanks," Tyra called. She waited for Melanie to nod, waving slightly before she let the door swing shut. She scowled. "She is so not your type."

"Maybe that's what I needed," he said. He liked that Melanie liked to take care of him. It was nice. He didn't need to constantly fight with someone and have there be drama. He ran his tongue over his teeth, smirking. "So Lyla and Vince, huh? She said he was a friend. I didn't even know they knew each other."

"They were on the same team for awhile, I know I can't see it, but who the hell knows. Lyla Garrity's done pretty well for herself. You know how she got her job?" Tyra let the insinuation sit for a second before she smirked again. "Julie told me that Coach heard it was an old friend from Vanderbilt. He's the GM."

However Lyla got her job, he didn't care. She was a good person, she deserved to have good things and if she liked this stuff, then fine. I don't need to think about it. "I'm going to go back inside. You can stand out here and think up crazy stories about Lyla Garrity."

"Billy said she called him, left a message. He doesn't know why."

That was news to him. He didn't let it show, the surprise, and walked away from Tyra, going back up into the house, where Melanie was spooning pasta onto plates. "Looks good," he said, kissing her cheek. "I'll be right back."

"Don't take too long."

"I won't," he lied, grabbing the house phone and ran down the hallway to his room. He closed the door, going into the bathroom and turned on the sink, in case Melanie came investigating. He leaned back against the closed door, dialing the number he knew from memory. Buddy had given it to him a few years ago, in the event that he had to contact her for whatever reason. His bad ticker, Buddy had said as an excuse. Although Tim knew better; Buddy had been very vocal lately how he wasn't sure about Lyla's career path, that it was wearing her out. It got him decent football tickets anywhere in the country and he could proudly say that his daughter was one of those rare female executives in the male dominated world of football, but Tim also knew that Buddy did not like what the newspapers and the TV said about Lyla.

She was pretty, that was the only reason for it and Tim hated it. If she wasn't young and attractive, they probably wouldn't have been as interested. It was a double standard he couldn't stand. He didn't know what a double standard was until Tyra pointed it out one day, when Lyla's face popped up on the TV in the bar, and they were calling her the Texas Tyrant. "It's an interesting story, that's another reason," Tyra had told him, when he'd wanted to know how come they wouldn't just leave her alone.

The phone call last night was just a means of telling her he knew she was back in town. To get under her skin, he guessed. He lifted the phone to his ear, waiting until she answered, sounding rushed. "Get you at a bad time?" he asked.

"Um, I'm running off to a dinner meeting. What's going on?"

"I got your check. Thanks, but I'm good."

"Keep it."

"I don't want your charity."

"Tim, it's your ten percent, we can joke about that until the day is long, but we all had a deal." She grunted, lifting something up. He frowned slightly; what the hell was she doing? Her voice sounded strained. "I'm the one in the NFL now. You get my ten percent."

That wasn't the deal and she knew it. It was fun to joke about, but the fact that she'd actually gone ahead and sent him a check? "I don't want it," he whispered. He'd paid his own way for most of his life nowadays. He'd take money if it was just offered, he wasn't stupid, but not from her. There were strings with this money. He didn't want strings. He cleared his throat. "Are you going to be in Dillon? I heard…heard you might soon."

She paused doing whatever it was that she was doing. "Um…yeah, on Friday I have dinner with my dad. He's going to try to make it a…a weekly thing I guess. Why?"

"Thought you might want to see the house." There was silence. Hello, he wondered, his eyes widening slightly. "Um…Lyla?"

Lyla coughed, clearing her throat nervously. It was a tic of hers. "Well…I wouldn't mind, but…but what about Melanie? I can't imagine your girlfriend would want to see your ex wandering around your house, you know?" she chuckled. She cleared her throat again, self-conscious. "I mean…I know I wouldn't."

Melanie will be fine. "You're a friend," he said, his voice firm. It came out harder than he expected, but it was the truth. "You are one of my best friends. I want you to come here and see the house. I want you to meet Melanie." Rise above or something, was that what he was doing? He really wanted to keep Lyla as far from Melanie as possible, if only because he didn't want to deal with the girl shit that he was going to have to deal with once Melanie got a dose of Lyla Garrity.

She cleared her throat again. "Um…okay. I guess…well…why the hell not, you know?" she chuckled. She coughed a few more times. "I really need to go. This meeting…"

"Yeah, yeah, your meeting. Um, Jason will be here this weekend. He had to meet someone in Dallas he said." That would be nice. All three of them at the house together. They could celebrate Lyla's new job, he guessed. If it was a celebration, he figured it was.

Lyla paused again, chuckling. "Yeah, he was meeting with me. He represents some of the guys on the team. I represent the team, so…" she trailed off, her voice softening. "It is really good to talk to you Tim, I guess I just…"

"Tim!"

He jumped at the sound of Melanie banging on the bathroom door. He glanced at the sink, moving quickly to turn off the water, which was starting to overflow. Shit. "Um…just a second!" he shouted. He ignored the water; he'd figure that out later. He cleared his throat. "I gotta' go."

She didn't say anything. Her voice was slightly accusing a moment later. "Are you keeping me secret from Melanie? Because I won't deal with that Tim. Tell her about me. Tell her all about me or I will."

Jesus. First Tyra and now her. He sighed. "Fine. Talk to you later."

"See you Friday."

Damnit. He disconnected, dropping the cordless phone onto the shelf above the sink, leaving the bathroom. He took his time, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, watching Melanie put plates on the table. She hated eating in the living room, but they'd compromised by having the TV on so he could watch while they were eating, even though he knew it still bothered her. I try to be a good boyfriend, he thought idly. They'd been together over six months now. They met through his job; he'd been fixing the kindergarten classroom when the roof had kind of caved in over the winter. They'd been dating since. She was absolutely nothing like the other girls in his life.

Which was kind of the point, he thought, moving away from the doorway and taking a seat at the table. He picked up his fork, twirling it in spaghetti as she sat down next to him, dropping a lemon slice in her water glass. "So Lyla Garrity…" he trailed off. He took a deep breath, glancing at her. "She is my ex-girlfriend." He shoved a meatball into his mouth to keep him busy for a few minutes while Melanie stared at him, processing that information. He swallowed hard a moment later. "We dated in high school."

"High school? Well I guess that's something," Melanie said, setting her water glass down. She tapped her fingernails on the side of it, glancing sideways at him. "But not after?"

"No. She went to college."

"That was why you guys broke up? Because she went to college?"

"Yes." We were on different paths. They didn't come together. Until now, it seemed, with her on a path that was five hours away. He twirled spaghetti around more on his fork. "She's in Dallas. She's going to stop by on Friday."

"This Friday?" Melanie cleared her throat, reaching for her water glass and took a sip. She shrugged. "Well I suppose that's okay. I'd like to meet her, if she's such a big part of your life. Especially because you didn't tell me about her."

There it was. The little dig. Melanie did that from time to time. He rolled his eyes, ignoring it; it wasn't attractive. He kept eating, finally changing the subject. "So Jason's gonna' be here too. He's coming by, the three of us go way back."

"I didn't know that."

"Lyla dated Jason."

Melanie set her fork down, frowning deeply. "She dated your best friend and you?"

"There was a bit of overlap." He swallowed quickly, almost choking. This was not a good way to do this. He looked over at her, staring at him. "What?"

She shook her head slightly, her eyes widening a little. "She sounds like a great woman. Cheats on her boyfriend with you. Now she's coming to see the house and you never told me about her."

How can I make this easier? He looked over at the TV; Melanie had changed the channel to one of those gossip channels, that talked about celebrities and movie stars and…and in this case big time quarterbacks who broke up with their model girlfriends and were rumored to be hooking up with the sexy, smart new football executive who was no longer in his chain of command. I could use this to my advantage, to get Melanie off my back. He smiled quickly at her. "Lyla's with someone. Someone I know actually, he was on the East Dillon football team back when Billy coached it."

"That was years ago, how does she know him?"

"Because he's the Oakland Raiders quarterback."

Melanie arched a blonde eyebrow. Her blue eyes flashed. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, she's dating Vince Howard," he lied. He smiled quickly, patting her hand. "No need to worry about her. You're gonna' love her, she's like a walking unicorn that pukes rainbows." That's what Billy called her. He didn't really agree, but if it got Melanie off his back, so be it.

She frowned, reaching for her wine glass. "Okay. I guess."

"Yup. Good spaghetti." He swallowed again, looking down at his plate and biting down on his tongue. This was not going to end well, but hey, at least for now he wasn't dealing with a jealous girlfriend. This weekend he'd just tell Lyla to go along with the charade. No big deal. She'd find it funny. Especially if Vince was a friend of hers; how that happened, he had no idea, but she'd find it funny. She'd help him out. He hoped.


	3. The Quarterback

**A/N:**We'll delve more into Melanie later on in the fic, so some of her possessive tendencies with Tim will be a bit more explained (just not in this chapter, they're actually exaggerated) :) Hopefully people enjoy, it's just fun and light-hearted. I'm just on a break from writing the angst right now.

* * *

**3. The Quarterback**

"Ms. Garrity you have a visitor."

Lyla looked up from the contracts she was reviewing; one of their linebackers was getting absolutely screwed by his attorneys, but he didn't seem to realize it just yet. She pushed at her hair, knocking it out of its ponytail, looking up at Clinton in the doorway. "Who is it?" she asked. She was not dressed to receive, as her mother used to say. It was late on Friday; she planned on taking the Cowboys' jet to the regional Dillon airport to meet up with everyone for dinner. Right now she wanted to focus on contracts.

She stood up from the couch, her bare feet padding silently in the carpet. She reached around for her Chanel flats, slipping her feet into them; she was wearing jeans and a Vanderbilt t-shirt. Definitely not appropriate for a business meeting. Clinton looked over his shoulder and then back to her. What, she thought, shrugging at him. He hissed, his hand held up to the side of his mouth. "It's Vince Howard!"

"Vince?" she hissed. She ran across the office and into the bullpen, laughing at the sight of her former quarterback. "Vince!" she exclaimed, hurrying towards him. She squealed when he lifted her off her feet in a tight hug, dropping back down on her heels. She kissed his cheek, taking his hand and led him into the office before he could say anything. The remaining few people who hadn't skipped out early for the holiday weekend were poking their heads up a little. They were no stranger to famous football players, but the players never made their way up to the executive offices unless they were in full business dress. And even then it usually wasn't good.

The sight of a Super Bowl winning, Heisman Trophy award winner, and generally all around nice guy in laid back attire of jeans, t-shirt and leather jacket, was relatively unexpected. Especially given all the rumors, Lyla thought, scowling at Clinton who just arched a dark eyebrow at her. "Hold my calls," she said.

"Hmm," he said, judging her.

"Shut up."

"I didn't say a thing."

She closed the door, wishing there was a lock on it. She smiled warmly at Vince. "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be preparing for training camp?"

"I can prepare here or I can prepare in California, but my momma's here," Vince said, smiling at her. He leaned back in, kissing her cheek. "It's nice to see you Lyla. I thought I'd drop by while I was in town visiting friends."

"Oh?" She looked over her shoulder and then back to him, crossing her arms. He was just smiling politely; he might have been here to visit his mom, but she knew better. She sighed. "Vince. Why are you here?"

"A guy can't visit his favorite NFL executive?"

"A guy can't visit his favorite NFL executive with whom there are relatively damaging rumors," she said. She sat down on the couch, drawing her feet beneath her, waiting as he sat down across from her, leaning his arms over his knees and folded his hands between them He was her favorite NFL player. She didn't even know he was from Dillon until they met in Oakland. That just served to show how ignorant she could be, she thought. She nibbled her lower lip. "Did you break up with Sabrina?" she asked, referring to his model girlfriend.

Vince leaned back in the couch, looking off into space. "Yeah," he sighed. He turned his head, scowling. "Mom didn't like her. She just…she didn't like Mom either. Didn't like you."

"I don't matter."

"You're a friend," he said, interrupting her. He reached over, squeezing her hand. "You're from home."

That was nice, but it wasn't true. They might have come from the same town, but there was no way in hell it was the same for either of them. She smirked, cocking her head and whispering. "If we ever met in Dillon I wouldn't have given you the time of day." She let go of his hand, climbing off the couch and walking to the small fridge in the little kitchenette area of her office, taking out two bottles of water. She passed him one, arching an eyebrow. "In fact, if I ever met you in Dillon, I'd probably have called the cops."

He took the bottle of water, setting it unopened on her glass coffee table. "Yeah, probably, but life doesn't work out that way, now does it?" He grinned, his teeth shining white. She smiled warmly; he seemed to light up rooms he was in just with a smile. The fact that he'd gone through hell…and yet he still smiled. It made her smile, as cheesy as that was. He cocked his head again. "Anyways, I thought I'd catch a ride with you to Dillon."

"And what would happen if my bosses found out that you were riding on the Dallas Cowboys jet? And what about your bosses?" This was a terrible idea, with him being here. She shook her head, whispering. "You need to stay away from me Vince. If only for your career."

Vince rolled his eyes, mumbling as he turned the cap on his bottle of water. "I hate California." He looked back at her. "My mom hated it too, its why she went back to Dillon. I got her a nice house and all, but…but I don't like her being so far away most of the time."

I understand, she thought, moving closer to him on the couch. She leaned in, whispering. "Is she still sober?" That's how they'd bonded. His mother had fallen off the wagon, after he'd started in Oakland, and it had distracted him. Many said he'd fail out in the NFL, that some quarterbacks who were as good as him in college just couldn't hack it. Only a few could. She'd read that he'd been in East Dillon, her father told her to look out for him, so she went to talk to him one day and they'd kind of been friends since. They had absolutely nothing in common other than they were both outsiders in the world they'd chosen, they happened to come from the same Texas town, and they both had parents who were self-destructive, but loved them.

Vince nodded quickly, frowning a little as he kept turning the cap on the bottle of water. "Yeah she's fine, she's fine. She's doing good. Got her routine and all that. I check on her when I can and all, but California's still too far." He pushed his hand over his head, dropping it down to his knee. He moved his lips around for a second, glancing sideways at her. "Is there anything for me here?"

Aw Vince, she thought, closing her eyes and walking away from him. "You know I can't possibly get into that without your representation present."

"Come on Lyla, my contract is up in two years with Oakland…"

"I know I helped you put it together and I signed a contract with them when I left that I would not use or abuse my knowledge of the Oakland contracts to help Dallas get a leg up," she said, her eyes wide. He was asking her to break that contract. It held steep penalties. It was essentially a non-compete clause. "Vince I can't help you, if that's the only reason you came here, I'm sorry, but you need to go."

That was not the only reason he came here and she saw it the second he glared at her, dejected. He shook his head, walking by her. "Forget it Lyla."

"Vince."

"I'm going to Dillon for a week. Are you going to come with me or not?" he asked. He gestured to the vast windows surrounding her office. "You can take the jet or we can take my Range Rover."

"You got a Range Rover?"

"I bought it when I got off the plane in Austin."

Young people in this business had access to way too much money and it was also way too accessible to them. She rolled her eyes, waving her hand and reaching for some work to do over the weekend. They could conference call in Dillon if need be, she thought, shoving folders in her bag. She slung it over her shoulder and picked up her tote, leading him out of her office and through the bullpen, receiving a simple eyebrow raise from Clinton as she bid him a good weekend.

They rode down to the parking lot together, stopping outside of her Audi Q5. "Sure you don't want to ride with me?" Vince teased.

"I'm fine," Lyla said, grinning. She bit her bottom lip, holding onto the top of her driver's side door. She cocked her head; damn the people who thought anything was going on between them. Right now she just wanted to get through each day without getting fired. "I'll meet you in Dillon. My dad is having dinner."

Vince shook his head, already declining the invitation. "I'm going to hang out with my mom. I'll probably stop in and talk to Becky and Luke, see how they're doing and all." He leaned in, kissing her cheek in goodbye, whispering in her ear. "Talk to Street." His agent, she thought, nodding slightly and waited for him to go back to his car. He drove away before her, leaving her standing there.

Damnit, she thought, slipping into the car. She drove to the private airport, boarded the jet, and promptly stuck earbuds in her ears and drew up the contract for their linebacker. She began to review it, pausing and looking up. She shook her head, shoving the contract aside and picked up the attached phone to the plane, punching the attendant who sat up front. "Can you please connect me to Jason Street?" she asked. "I'll give you the number."

It rang a few times, Jason picking up. "This is Street."

"This is Garrity."

"Finally! Someone gets back to me, you want to talk about Smith or do you want to talk about Anders?"

"I want to talk about Howard."

"Ah…contract is up in two years with Oakland." Jason paused, his voice dropping. "Last I heard he was still in Oakland and you had declined their several million dollar an offer deal to be their head lawyer, moving over to get several million a year in Dallas. Or did I get that wrong?"

No you have it right, she thought, picking at the red nail polish on her thumbnail. It was already cracked, she'd touch it up later. She flicked her flats against the heel of her foot, looking out the window at the large puffy clouds. She closed her eyes. "Jason, he's not happy. Look at his contract."

"You signed a clause in your departing contract, I know all about it," Jason interrupted. He dropped his voice, which was tight and slightly angry. "I will not be played Lyla and I'm not getting called into court to testify when the Raiders sue you for everything after they lose their quarterback to Dallas. After you left, after all the rumors…"

"We're not together!"

"Someone has a picture of you guys leaving the compound. You seemed friendly."

"Vince is a friend," she snapped. He was just a friend. Someone to connect with, someone who reminded her a little bit of home. Even if he was as far from her home as she knew. She closed her eyes; Jason would know, she could tell Jason. "Vince and I are friends. You remember a few years ago, when he just got on the team? He was lonely Jason. He had people coming at him from all angles in Dillon wanting a piece of his life. His father was causing trouble, wanting cash. He was in California, he didn't know what he was doing. I stepped in and I helped him out, that's all this is about." She smiled slightly. "Contrary to public opinion, it is possible for a woman to be friends with a man and have there be no feelings." She lifted her hand, dropping it down to her knee. "Hell Jason, look at us."

Point taken, she imagined, but he wasn't going to just let her win the argument. He sighed. "Feelings are feelings Lyla. I'm feeling murderous to you right now. There's always feelings involved." He chuckled. "It's just the type of feeling that matters."

Well then fine, if there are always feelings involved then mine are strictly platonic in nature. She was sure if you put Vince on the box and made him tell it, he'd say the same thing. They were just friends. "Jason, you know me. When would I ever interact with Vince Howard if we weren't in the same boat in Oakland?"

He paused, thinking that over for a minute. "Fine," he said. He cleared his throat again. "So Tim and Melanie. Before you say you don't want to get involved, you don't want to hear it, just know that I wouldn't be talking to you about this if I didn't think that there was something wrong. Because there is."

What could be wrong with Tim dating a kindergarten teacher? It wasn't a stripper, it wasn't a criminal and it wasn't her. Three things most people in Dillon would probably be pleased with, although not Jason it seemed. "What's the problem? He sounded fine on the phone." That didn't mean shit. Tim was such a good faker when he wanted to be.

Jason sighed again, his voice quiet. "Look, I've met Melanie. She's a sweet girl. She loves Tim. I think she really wants what's best for him and she thinks its her. She just…she only knows this new Tim. The quiet one that wants peace and just to feel as normal as humanely possible. She doesn't know his history like you and I do Lyla. He worries me sometimes. He's just…he's too quiet about things. It's like she's made him into some sort of Stepford Tim."

"Maybe Tim could use some…Stepford," she thought out loud. If Tim had peace and quiet and someone who loved him and would take care of him, then good for him. That was more thans he could provide. More than what Tyra could provide. She sighed, thinking of Tim's other…counterpart, so to speak. "What's Tyra think of this? Outside of Becky or Mindy she's the closest one to him, right?"

"Right." Jason stayed quiet for a few seconds. Lyla glanced at her phone, wondering if it disconnected, but he finally coughed, his voice faraway again. "Tyra doesn't like her. She thinks there's something off, but you'll have to talk to Tyra about that. Which you won't, because you're afraid of her."

"I am not!" She was too. Tyra was always…bigger and badder. Able to overcome more than her and dig out farther from the dirt. Whereas she had a shovel to dig herself out in the form of her uncle and Tim, Tyra had her bare hands. She also knew that Tyra shared something with Tim that she never would. That was similar personality and circumstances. She bit her lower lip, glancing at the contracts on her knees. I should go back to work. I really don't want Tim to become my whole life again. "Jason I'll need to let you go. Just let Tim be himself, don't get involved."

"This Vince thing is going to throw him Lyla, you and I both know that. You're back."

"I'm not back."

"You are," Jason insisted. "And you're just going to have to see it all for yourself. Where are you right now again?"

"I'm on the Gulfstream."

"Damn Garrity. Rising high in the world."

Yeah well I worked my ass off, she thought, smiling slightly. She glanced at the laptop sitting off to the side, seeing a flash from a new email. She opened it up, seeing the GM, Ryan Ellison, had sent her a message, wanting her to call him. "Jason I'm going to let you go. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Later."

She disconnected, dialing Ryan Ellison. She got straight to work, discussing some prospects he was interested in bringing to the team. While she spoke, she directed the scouts to go take a look. That reminded her, she thought, making a note in her private schedule. _Talk to Billy. _She had a job for him. A test, so to speak. She finished with Ryan, whom she'd known since her freshman year at Vanderbilt. He was old school money and his dad owned the Tennessee Titans. It was pretty easy for him to get into the NFL and get his own team. Buy his own team, more like. It was her connection to him, which landed her the job.

About an hour later, she was in a rental car taking her from the regional airport, where the plane was turning around to go back to the airfield in Dallas, and she was driving off towards her father's house. Tim had built it for him, not too far from his little compound. Whenever she saw it, she marveled at how nice the architecture was and also hoped that Tim got what he was owed and more. She climbed out of the car, going up and into the house. "Daddy!" she shouted.

"Baby!" Buddy exclaimed, swinging out of his armchair and hurrying towards her, lifting her clear up into his arms in a hug. She oofed, hugging him back, but she smiled wide. It was good to see him; as annoying and tiresome as her father could be, he was still her father and she loved him. He kissed her cheek hard. "You made it! How's Dallas? Where's your bags?"

"Just have one," she said, nodding towards her little carryon. She walked into the living room, stopping in her tracks. A smile spread on her lips. Damn. He looked good. Really good. "Tim," she murmured, her eyelids falling to slight hoods as she looked at him. Up and down. Wow.

He unfolded himself from the couch, setting his beer bottle down on the coffee table. The long hair he'd used to have was cut short, but it was still a little long on the ends, curling over his ears. He had on a long-sleeve black shirt with a black and gray plaid flannel over it. His jeans had seen better days and he wore beat up brown boots. "Hey Garrity," he drawled. He grinned. "You look good. Real good."

Thanks, she thought, feeling a little uncomfortable all of a sudden. She lifted her chin up, smiling tightly. "Thanks. What are you doing here?"

"Tim's having dinner with us sweetheart. We're getting Chinese."

"Oh," she murmured, her eyes following Tim as he walked around the living room. Like a predator, she thought, arching an eyebrow at him. "What are you doing here?" she whispered, even though Buddy was in the other room. She didn't want him eavesdropping. She tugged at her carryon suitcase. "I'm putting this upstairs." Don't follow me, she felt like adding, but she didn't. She went upstairs to one of the guest rooms. She hadn't been here in a couple of years. It looked like her brother was the last one to stay, judging by the slightly stale odor of marijuana, she thought, tugging open drawers and running her hands underneath.

Bingo, she thought, pulling out the Ziploc bag of what, knowing her brother, he'd convinced their father was oregano if Buddy ever found it. She rolled her eyes, tossing it onto the top of the dresser, turning and stopping. "Tim," she warned, holding up her finger. "No." Like a puppy. No, stay back. No, get down.

"Relax," he said, closing the door. He shoved his hands into his pockets, arching his eyebrows and grinning. "You ready to party or what? I'm still subject to random drug tests and I think that if the press found out about this…" he trailed off, holding up the bag of pot. He smiled, shoving it back into the dresser. He winked at her. "For later."

Oh you're such a…ugh, she thought, turning around again. She leaned on the dresser, crossing her arms. "What are you doing here?" she asked, cocking her head. And don't say it's to catch up.

"I won't say it's to catch up, I'll say it's to say hello," Tim said. He reached over and carefully adjusted the thin silver cross necklace she wore, removing it from where it had snagged on the button of her plaid rancher shirt. He lightly touched it, his fingertips brushing her collarbone. "There, pretty."

Me or the necklace? Tim, she thought, shaking her head when he leaned in to kiss her. She felt his lips barely touch hers before he was pulling back. "Tim," she murmured, her fingers going to his neck, stilling him away from her. She opened her eyes. This was a terrible idea. "You have a girlfriend. I bet Tyra's already warned you away from me. Jason's trying to hook us back up again. This is a terrible idea." Please don't let me ruin things for you, especially since I haven't even been here fifteen minutes.

"I just wanted to say hello," he whispered. He stepped away from her, moving towards the door. "I need to call Melanie. Let her know that I'll be late tonight. Jason wants us at the bar at eight. Gives us enough time to eat Chinese food and then go get drunk for old times' sake."

Fine, she thought, rolling her eyes and pushing away from the dresser. She followed him downstairs, ignoring her dad's little smile when he saw them walking into the kitchen together. Dad, I am not a homewrecker, she thought. I'm not getting involved with Tim and his little perfect girlfriend. She sat down, taking the Lo Mein and heaped a bunch on her plate, she was absolutely starving.

When they finished dinner, they drove in pure silence to the bar, sitting in the cab of his truck. Buddy didn't say anything at their decision to drive together. I'll catch a ride with Jason or something, she figured, if she had too much. She walked up into the bar, looking around. She smiled when she saw Vince sitting at the bar with a beer, talking to Jason. "Hey you," she said, greeting him with a light pat on his shoulder. Jason lifted his face up and she kissed him quickly on the lips; their standard greeting when they weren't working. She pointed to him as the bartender, who…her eyes widened. "Landry!"

Landry spun around on his heel at the sound of his name. He broke into a wide smile. "Lyla Garrity! Welcome back! Your dad didn't tell you I was tending bar?"

"No," she laughed, sputtering slightly. She frowned, her forehead wrinkling in confusion. This was…odd. "What are you doing here?"

"Tyra's mom broke her ankle and can't tend, so here I am helping out. I'm on my feet all day at the school teaching music and then I play here with the band when we're not touring around the country, and I still have to tend bar," Landry drawled, his arms leaning against the bar. He looked good too, Lyla thought. Something was in the water in Dillon to make everyone seem…better than they were the last time she'd been here. Or maybe it was just the time she'd been away. Everyone changed. He nodded towards her, before he stepped off to the side. "I gotta' get back to work. Drinks' are on the house, courtesy of your dad."

"Thanks," she chuckled, hopping up onto a barstool beside Vince. She sipped her beer. "When did you get in?"

"A couple hours ago," Vince answered. He turned so his back was against the bar, looking around like he was trying to find someone, but that person clearly wasn't there. He looked over at Jason. "So what about me getting to Texas?" he asked.

"No work," Jason and Lyla said at once. Their unspoken rule, which apparently they had to school Vince.

Lyla looked up when the door to the bar opened again, Tim coming inside, followed by a pretty blonde wearing a red sundress. That must be Melanie, she thought, glancing down and wishing she'd worn something a little nicer than jeans, a flannel shirt, and flats. Should have put my cowboy boots on or something. She hopped off the stool when Tim came to a stop, stepping aside and gesturing to Melanie. "This is Melanie," he said. "Melanie, this is Lyla Garrity. VP of the Dallas Cowboys."

"One of the VPs, there's four of us," Lyla said, smiling at Melanie as she shook her hand. Pretty girl. Slightly younger than Tim, but oh well. She grinned. "Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot about you."

"I hope good things," Melanie said, her voice soft, with a slight drawl to it. Not from Texas originally, Lyla instantly pegged. Maybe Georgia or South Carolina. It kind of seemed to go with the whole 'Southern Belle' thing she kind of had going. Maybe she was a debutante, Lyla thought, hopping back onto her stool. Melanie folded her hands in front of her, holding a small red clutch. "Tim tells me that you're going to be visiting a lot. I hope we can be friends. I understand you're one of Tim's closest friends."

Possessive, Lyla instantly analyzed, glancing at Jason, who shot her an 'I told you so' look before he drank a long pull of his beer. She ran her tongue over her teeth; girl, I was in a sorority and I can fight my way fine with the boys, she thought, smiling quickly again, maybe with a little more fang. "Yeah well, I've known Tim almost as long as Tyra. I hear she's around a lot too." She quickly smiled again, her voice soft. "And you and Tim seem to be doing well."

Melanie seemed to get the dig, smiling slightly and relaxing a little more. I'm not a threat, Lyla thought. Unless you want me to be. Melanie gestured to a table in the corner. "Why don't we have a sit over there? You want to bring your boyfriend?"

Boyfriend? She frowned, looking at Tim, who had an 'oh shit' look on his face. What, she instantly thought. She glared at him; what the hell did you do Riggins? He stood behind Melanie, pointing towards Vince. What the hell was he doing, she thought, frowning at him and shaking her head slightly. He was pointing wildly to Vince, who was also looking at him oddly and mouthing what looked like the word 'boyfriend.' No, he's not my boyfriend, she thought, looking at Vince. He then made a weird motion with his hand, like a puppet. He instantly stopped, smiling at Melanie when she turned to look at him, frowning slightly. "Ah…go get the table before someone takes it, will ya'? I'll just…yeah." He grabbed Vince, pulling him aside and then snatched her too.

What the hell, she thought, spinning around as he let go of her upper arm. "Are you having an episode of Tourette's?" she demanded. Her eyes widened. "Or have you finally lost what little sanity you still had left?" Tim frowned, a little put off at that statement. Well it's true, she felt like adding.

"I'll say, what the hell were you trying to tell us?" Vince asked. He narrowed his eyes. "Because Lyla's not my girlfriend."

That's when the other shoe dropped, so to speak. I knew I wouldn't be able to get through this night without craziness, she thought, staring at him when he spoke. "Well tonight she is," Tim said. What!? She gaped. That was so much worse than she thought.

"Excuse me?!"

Tim waved his hands between them, suddenly a little manic, brushing aside her shock. "You both are boyfriend and girlfriend this weekend. I had to get Melanie off my back, she doesn't trust you Lyla, she barely even trusts Tyra isn't going to snatch me off. To be honest it drives me crazy, but it's just you guys, she loves Mindy and Becky and Julie and everyone else, it's just you guys. I don't know why, she hates you both, she doesn't even know you Garrity but I'm sure you'll give her reason to hate you soon enough."

Hey, she thought, frowning a little and pursing her lips. "Well that's not fair," she said. She was also pissed that he'd still be with someone who so clearly had insecurity issues. She pointed towards the corner, trying not to look too obvious. "I met her ten seconds ago." This was one of those women things she just wasn't good at, she thought, feeling a little hurt again. You're either competing of them or jealous of them, Jason told her once, when she'd complained to him about how she didn't have female friends and she was one of a handful of women at her level in a male dominated industry. It was football for crying out loud too. I guess this is just an example of that, she thought, looking over at Melanie, who was frowning at them. She scowled at Tim. "You're girlfriend is going to need Botox by the time this night is over with all her scowling."

"Whoa," Vince said, lightly pulling her away when Tim stepped towards her. "Calm down Garrity."

Uh-oh, she thought, smiling slightly at Tim's glare at Vince. Vince didn't seem to understand it; he'd never been around her and Tim before. He didn't even know of their history when they'd become friends in Oakland. Tim growled at him. "She's fine Howard."

"I'm fine, I can take care of myself." Not that anyone cared. What the hell was with Tim? He was kissing her in her room an hour ago and now he wanted her to fake being with Vince to get his girlfriend off his back? What the hell? Did he think that he wouldn't be able to avoid seeming like he still had feelings or something? Oh hell, she thought, cocking her head slightly at him. Did he still have feeilngs? This was too much. She sighed, dejected. Just do it Garrity. Get over this weekend and go back to Dallas. Then you can delay seeing him for a few more months or something. "What do you want me to do Tim?"

He smiled, relieved. "Just do me a solid and pretend you're together. Thanks." He moved away quickly, leaving the two of them standing there, still dumbfounded. This was insane.

She turned to look at Vince. "What?" she demanded. He wasn't seriously going to go through with this, was he?

Apparently he was. Vince smiled, looping his arm through hers. "Well this is gonna' be a little like dating a sister, but let's give it a try. Come on. You could use some livening up." He pushed her towards the corner, which was hard, as her feet were practically stuck to the floor, still frozen in shock.

Tim…what the…she just sat, trying to smile at Melanie, but she was too busy staring at Tim, wondering what it would be like if she just strangled him. He didn't want to tell her that Vince was basically her beard this weekend? He didn't want to mention it when he kissed her in the house earlier? Good God. He was desperate. Why, she wondered, looking at Melanie, who had her hand in Tim's, laughing at something Jason said. Tim just smiled. The light is gone, she thought, frowning slightly as she looked into his eyes. It was there earlier, with Jason at the bar, but…but it seemed sitting here all coupled up that it was gone. Melanie said something to him and he smiled at her, kissing her lightly. Ouch, she thought, feeling a sting in her chest. She looked at Vince, who smiled at her, understanding the flinch of pain she felt. She leaned her shoulder against his, trying to smile, but she was having a difficult time. This sucked, she thought, looking at Tim. This really sucked. She didn't think it would, not after all this time, but it did.

I guess you can't be friends with a guy and not have there be feelings, she thought, getting up at some point to get more beers. Jason wheeled himself over to her as she waited on Landry. "You're doing a good job faking it with Vince, are you sure there's nothing there?" he teased.

"Please," she snorted, taking the shot glass from Landry. He remained behind, waiting for her to talk. She looked over at him. "Does it suck when Tyra comes in with guys? Must be weird."

"Yeah it must be weird, since we're engaged." Landry turned around, walking off. Well that was news to her, she thought.

Jason shrugged. "Surprised me too, but since she came back to do the social work thing in Austin they've been spending time together. Once her mom's healed up and they're married, Landry's moving to Austin to pursue the music thing full time." He shrugged again. "It's weird that we're all still connected. Doesn't seem like that's the average statistic for high school friends and loves."

No, it definitely was the outlier, she thought, tossing back another shot. She set it down, feeling a little buzzed. She glanced at Jason and then to Vince. She pointed to him. "Do not use this as a chance to get in my head about the new free agents."

He grinned, a flash of white teeth. "Sure."

"This is just…a crazy weekend," she said, coughing as she took another shot. She swallowed it, her mind already fuzzy. She turned around, walking over to the table, where Melanie was practically in Tim's lap. She squinted; he hated public displays of affection unless he was the one instigating it. Who are you and what have you done with my Tim, she thought, pushing a shot glass to Vince, who took it, but didn't drink.

He leaned in, whispering to her. "Careful Lyla. You're getting loopy."

"I'm fine," she lied, throwing back the shot. She draped her arm around his neck. I can fake this just as good as Tim, she thought, scowling. "So does anyone want to hear about the time that this one and I were at a Super Bowl party and John Elway got drunk and knocked the punch bowl onto my dress?" she laughed. She smiled wide at Tim, but it faded slightly. This hurts. I didn't think it would. It shouldn't. It really, really shouldn't.

'Sorry,' he mouthed. He smiled sadly, looking away and then back to her again. "I want to hear about Lyla's job. So tell us Garrity, how'd your first week go?" He picked up his beer, sipping at it before he set it down beside his hand, twirling it around a few times, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

She glanced at Vince, who seemed expectant; so did Jason. "Fine," she said, tossing her hair out of her eyes. "I'll tell you about my first week." I can do that much, she thought. It wasn't like she had to hide anything from these people. She took a deep breath. "So I did a feature with Sports Illustrated and I managed to get the scouts to look at a couple of prospects from some PAC12 schools that I'm not going to name, and I also decided that I'm going to patent the name "Texas Tyrant."

"Why would you do that?" Melanie asked, lifting an eyebrow. She glanced at Tim. "It seems very...not like you." She smiled again. "Tim says you're like a unicorn. Sweet. That's what I've heard as well."

That's what most people thought. What did Billy say once? I'm a unicorn that pukes rainbows. Only Billy Riggins could be that poetic. But since you don't know me, she thought, smiling softly at Melanie, I'll give you a hint, Lyla thought, glancing at Tim. She looked at Vince and then to Jason, her voice soft. "They call me the 'Texas Tyrant', Melanie, because I don't give up. I exploit my opponents' weaknesses, I fight hard with everything I have, and I always get my way." She looked at Tim again, her voice quiet. He looked away, not wanting to maintain eye contact. That should be her first clue, if she didn't already suspect that he was kind of...just quiet. "Especially when my friends are involved and I think they're making bad decisions." She got up, her fingers drifting over Vince's shoulder to let the charade keep going, but she didn't want to play anymore. She felt a little sick and it wasn't from the tequila. Tim looked up as she glanced over her shoulder. There was no spark there. Jason was right, there was something off with Tim and she couldn't place it. She wasn't sure of it, but she knew she didn't like it. Even though she probably had no right to judge him or his new girlfriend.

You'd hate anyone who was with your ex-boyfriend, she thought. Except she didn't. She loved Erin like a sister. This was...this was different. This was Tim. This was the one who she would love to be with, if they could get on the same page. She sighed, looking over at Landry as she set her empty glass on the bar. "Can I get another, please?"

Landry smiled softly, leaning in and whispering. "It gets better. Seeing them with other people."

What do you know, you're at least with the girl you loved, she wanted to say, but she didn't. She was nice after all. She smiled quickly. "It's fine. I'm just getting used to it. Thanks though." She looked over her shoulder while he prepared her drink. Tim was laughing at something Melanie said, her fingers brushing over his chest. He met her eyes and the smile fell a little. There it was again, she thought. That dark little look. Sad. He was going through motions. Why, she wanted to scream, when this isn't you? She took the glass from Landry when he set it back down in front of her. She was going back to Dallas on Monday. If she could get through this weekend that was all she could ask for. "You coming back?" Vince asked, coming up to her side.

"Yeah, I'll be there in a second." She waited for him to leave, reaching into her pocket and brought up a cell phone number. She sent a message. _This is Lyla Garrity. We haven't met, but we need to talk. Call my office to set up an appointment. I think we have a lot to discuss about a mutual friend. _She waited a moment and then sent it. One down, she thought, taking another breath and brought up Billy's number. _I need to talk to you. Don't tell Tim I'm reaching out. Call me. I have an offer you of all people can't refuse._

She shoved the phone into her pocket, collecting her drink and returned to the table, pretending the rest of the night away. It really wasn't that hard. Not when you'd spent a good chunk of your life doing it. She just was upset that she had to do it again. That isn't who I am anymore, she thought, looking over at Tim, who was dancing with Melanie. She scowled. It wasn't who he was anymore either; she looked over at Jason, scowling deeper. If he hadn't brought this up, she wouldn't be feeling this way, she blamed him. She wanted Tim happy, but this...well fine, she agreed with Jason. He wasn't happy. She picked up her drink and finished, grabbing Vince's hand. "Come on. Let's dance."

"I don't dance."

"I don't really care."


	4. The Time Out

**4. The Time Out**

"That Lyla can sure drink."

"She's from Texas," Tim answered, tossing his t-shirt down into the laundry basket at the end of the bed. He glanced over at Melanie, who was in the process of putting lotion on every available surface of her body. Normally it was a bit of a turn-on, but right now he was just tired. He knew what she was trying to do though. He sighed, thinking to that kiss. Damnit. That was stupid. To be honest, he had no idea why he did it.

Lyla was just standing there, looking happy and…and kind of smelling like sunshine, if that made any sense. She was secure, happy, and she just looked damn good so he kissed her. I have a girlfriend. A long-term girlfriend. A practically live-in girlfriend. A girlfriend who tells me she loves me all the time, but I can barely get the words out without choking. Lyla asked him if he was getting a ring soon. He'd told her it was Melanie who didn't want it, but he wasn't ready yet. It just…he wanted it, but just…not right now.

He didn't know what the hell he was doing now that Lyla was wandering around. Tyra was right. It was upsetting his life, even if he tried to act as normal as possible. Part of the reason why he wanted to go to Buddy's to see her. Buddy was more than happy to have him over. He sat down at the edge of the bed, tugging off his boots. He threw them in the corner and stood up again, walking over to his phone. "Are you working tomorrow?" Melanie asked.

"No, I'm hanging with Jason and Garrity."

"Oh." Melanie frowned, lifting up the sheets and climbing beneath them. She folded her hands in her lap, crossing her legs. She adjusted the strap of her silky nightgown, cocking her head slightly and following him with her cool blue gaze as he walked around the room looking for things and setting other things down. "Why do you call her Garrity? It seems…masculine. She's definitely not."

No, Lyla was definitely not masculine. Lyla was the kind of girl though who did keg stands when she wanted to and tried to make sure her frilly underwear didn't show as she did the stand. He sighed, walking around the edge of the bed. What was with Melanie? She could be possessive but this seemed excessive, even for her. He frowned. "What's it matter?"

"I'm just asking," she said, soft. She was hurt. Shit. She looked away, picking at her pink fingernails. "Tim we've been together six months and I've never heard of this woman outside of the fact that she's Buddy Garrity's brilliant shark of a daughter. She is absolutely nothing like what I pictured and I'm just wondering why you've had so many opportunities to share about her and you never did."

That was a fair point. He crawled onto his side of the bed, looking at his phone. He frowned. This wasn't his phone. This was…he drew up the schedule. Holy crap, he thought, his eyes widening. This was not his phone at all. "Um…" he trailed off, not really hearing her. How did he get this? He must have picked it up on the table. It looked just like his. Black with no cover. He always dropped it so the cover popped off.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing, I just…this isn't my phone."

"Who's phone is it?"

That would be Lyla Garrity, he thought, scanning the schedule. Her life was scheduled into thirty minute increments. She had a lot of meetings. Lots of practices she attended. Scout meetings. He felt odd intruding in her life like this, but hell, he was going to find out more about her from her phone than anything she planned on telling him. I wonder if Vince is in here, he thought, scowling as he opened up the photos tab. He scrolled through them. There weren't a lot and in most she was alone, but someone was taking them. That was kind of sad.

He scowled deeper at various photos of her a few years ago with some guy. Looked like a doctor or something. He closed it down and then went back to her calendar. "Tim, it's rude to go through someone's stuff and as a member of the female sisterhood, I have to object." Melanie leaned over, taking the phone from him. She shook it at him. "You can ask her tomorrow any questions you have. When you give her the phone back."

"I just have one question and I can find it in the phone," he said, grabbing it quickly from her loose grasp. He grinned, looking back down at the calendar. His eyes widened at a date in July. Oh my God. "Holy shit."

"What?"

_Two-Year Divorce Anniversary—Yay!_

Oh my God, Lyla was divorced. Which meant she got married. She got married and Buddy never told me. She got divorced and Buddy never told me. She was happy about the divorce. Why would she be happy about a divorce? The questions, oh the questions, he thought, his mind filling with them. He didn't even notice that Melanie had taken the phone and was looking through it again. "Hey! If you can't look then I can't."

"I just want to see what makes this woman tick. She just…she's odd."

"She's fine," he snapped. He took the phone from her, carrying it to the dresser. He went to power down when a text came through. Billy? He frowned, opening it up. It was Billy, that was his number. What the hell?

_Me of all people? What's that supposed to mean Saint? I'll meet with you. You got any jobs available with the Cowboys? I've got kids and bills and a wife with a shopping problem._

He glanced at the text she had originally sent Billy. About an offer he couldn't refuse. What in the world? He powered down the phone before he acted on his impulse to send Billy a message back telling him he was a smelly asshole. He tossed it aside, turning around to Melanie, who was smiling at him from the bed. Damn. Ordinarily he'd be all up for what she was clearly offering, but not tonight. Definitely not tonight. "I'm not in the mood," he said, shutting her down as polite as he could.

She scowled, putting her legs back under the covers, watching him as he went back to the bed. "Seriously?"

"As a heart attack." Don't get jealous, he thought, rolling his eyes up to her. She was staring down at him, still incredulous. "I'm drunk."

"You're never this drunk."

Welcome to a Tim Riggins who hangs out with his best friends. You've never seen me like this, he thought; even though he wasn't really that drunk. He was annoyed. Vince seemed to enjoy his time with Lyla too much. Lyla was being mean to Melanie for no reason. Jason seemed like he was stirring a pot of chaos and enjoying every second of it. What the hell is wrong with my life, he wondered, staring at the ceiling. It was none of their business what he did with himself or his love life, but there they were, clear as day, Lyla and Jason getting their hands dirty.

I should never have kissed Lyla. I should tell Melanie. He bit his lip. It was just on the tip of his tongue. "Why didn't you ever tell me about her?" Melanie whispered, looking down at him again. She swallowed hard, nervous. "I'm sorry if I sound jealous, but…Tim I've been used. I came out to Texas to get away from bad boyfriends. I'm not interested in continuing this if you're in love with your ex-girlfriend."

"I'm not in love with her."

"Are you sure? You just…it was weird. There was a vibe between you guys." She bit her lower lip, whispering. "How did you end it with her?"

Sadly, he thought instantly. It was sad. He shook his head, leaning over and flicked off the light. "I'm not talking about Lyla with you. Good night Melanie."

"Tim."

"I said good night," he said, maybe a bit too harshly. She didn't have anything to be worried about, he thought defensively. She was being too possessive. He didn't know why. He'd never cheated on her. Except he kissed Lyla earlier. He shook his head a little, punching his pillow and rolled onto his side, waiting. Melanie slipped down on her side of the bed and after a few minutes she got up, rummaging around the room. He looked up. "Where are you going?"

"My apartment."

What? She hadn't been there in days, just to get clothes. "Why?" he asked, sitting up quickly, his eyes widening. Oh Jesus. "This is about Garrity?"

"This is about you not wanting to share with your girlfriend. I'm going to give you your space. Let you have your weekend." Melanie shoved a sweatshirt on and picked up a pair of her Ugg boots, which he thought were so ugly and loud, clomping around the house. She scowled, her ice blue eyes even colder than they were a moment ago. "By the way Tim, Lyla Garrity and Vince Howard acted like they were brother and sister for most of the night. They are not dating, so I don't know what that was about." She waited a moment, quiet. "I'm going to give you the benefit of the doubt and say that you were misinformed. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

"Melanie," he called out. Don't leave me. He bit his lower lip, closing his eyes and fell back onto the bed. Shit. He hadn't been alone at night…in months. Not since Melanie started coming over. Shit, he thought again. He sat up, looking back at the door. Ugh. He crawled out of bed and pulled on his jeans and boots. He tugged on a t-shirt and a hoodie, grabbing the phone and his car keys.

Instead of heading to Melanie's apartment, which he should have done, if he was a good boyfriend, he went somewhere else. He bypassed Jason's street, where his parents lived and where Jason stayed when he was in town for random weekends. He even when right by the road that would take him to Buddy's house. He went straight to through East Dillon, coming to a stop in front of a nicely built two-story Victorian house on the outskirts of town.

He parked his truck and climbed out, walking around the back of the house and looked up at the window with a light on. He glanced at the tree. In the old days he could have made that no problem, but he was old and falling apart now. Not really but his shoulder ached more than it should, so he wasn't chancing anything. He walked up to the back door, lightly tapping on it with his knuckles. The porch light flicked on over his head a moment later. It pulled open, Vince standing on the other side, immediately looking around. "Looking for the cops?" he asked, opening up the door and stepping inside.

"Old habits," Vince said dryly. He frowned. "Luke's supposed to stop by. You're not him."

"Luke is probably locked in the basement knowing Becky, he was out too late last week and came home hungover. He's being punished." Becky put the law down, it was Luke's problem if he didn't follow it. He looked around the kitchen, which was clean and relatively empty. "Your mom around?"

"She's sleeping. I'd like to not wake her up, she doesn't sleep well," Vince said, closing the door. Tim frowned slightly; why not, he wondered. Vince shrugged, his voice quiet as he walked around him. "She's in a struggling period right now. What do you want Tim? This about Lyla again? She's upstairs. Leave her alone."

He removed the phone from his back pocket, holding it up and set it down on the counter, pushing it with one finger to the center of the kitchen island. "She took my phone and I took hers. Just returning it."

"Oh."

Yeah, oh, he felt like saying, but he didn't. He was never close with Vince; of all the East Dillon players he was closest to Luke and that was mostly because of Becky. He swished his lips around for a second. He knew what had gone on. With Vince's mom and her addictions and then with his dad being in prison. He looked away and then back again. Melanie knew. It was a stupid idea, saying Garrity and Vince were hooking up. If the papers thought it was true, who knew what they were smoking, they obviously didn't know them. "You're not with Garrity?" he asked, just to confirm for himself.

Vince cocked his head slightly. He narrowed his eyes and then smiled. "It bothers you."

"No."

"Yes, it does." He walked over to the fridge, opening it up and took out two bottles of water. "No beer in the house."

"This is fine." He didn't open it, but used it as a prop, just something to hold. He frowned again. It bothered him, yeah. He didn't like Vince and Garrity. They didn't have anything in common. Although they did know each other. They laughed nd clearly had some inside jokes. He cleared his throat. "How'd you guys…"

Vince chuckled, walking away from him and into a living room, with windows looking out to an attached sunporch. He flopped back on the couch, drawing his feet up and grinned again. "It pisses you off. I managed to piss off Tim Riggins. Count me as one of the many."

"Shut up."

"You're with someone, why do you care about Garrity?"

"Don't call her that," he snapped. That is my name. It's not yours. He scowled, hoping he didn't have to break Vince's nose to get his point across. He didn't do that anymore. He looked away. The room was full of flowers. There were pictures of Vince in various football uniforms throughout the room. He looked over at one. Vanderbilt. Holy shit. He stood up, walking over and looked at it. "I didn't know you went to Vanderbilt." How he didn't know that…he frowned again, glancing at Vince. "You went to Auburn."

"I did a year at Vanderbilt before I transferred."

"Were you there with Garrity?"

"Yes."

Oh. Well that explained some of it. Vince shook his head, twirling the cap of his water bottle around in his hand. He looked up, smirking. "I went to Vanderbilt because it was the only SEC school that would take me and I wanted SEC. I met Lyla when she was interning but I transferred and she graduated. We connected in Oakland." He smiled slightly, looking away. "She's a nice person."

Yes, she is a very nice person. He felt kind of silly now, straightening up a little. "Well. That's fine."

"Thanks for the approval on my friendship with Lyla Garrity," he said, sarcastic. He smirked again. "You have a girlfriend and she's my friend. You don't have anything to worry about, but…" Vince trailed off and then held up his finger. He frowned, disproving. "Melanie is also a nice person."

Yes, she is a nice person. Melanie. Shit. I'm an idiot. He turned around, leaving the living room and going back into the kitchen. He took a few more sips of the water bottle, setting it down on the island. Vince came back into the kitchen, silent. Don't say anything, he thought, looking out the window at the large backyard. He glared sideways at Vince. "She's sleeping?"

"Second door on the left. If you wake up my mom I will kill you."

"I wouldn't want you to break that pretty throwing arm of yours."

"I wouldn't want you to break your shoulder. Old Man."

He rolled his eyes, going upstairs and took the second door on the left, tapping it lightly before he pushed it open. Lyla was sitting on the bed, a laptop open on her knees. "Hey," he whispered, stepping into the room. "It's me."

She looked over, jumping ins urprise. The laptop fell off her knees. "Tim, oh my God." She got up, pulling on a t-shirt over the sports bra she was wearing. She pointed at him, warning him off. "Tim, I don't feel good, I had a lot to drink, and I am not doing this with you. Go home."

"I'm returning your phone, it's downstairs."

"I don't care, go home." She gave him the black phone sitting on the counter, nodding to it. "Take it and go back to your pretty, nice girlfriend." Lyla bit her lower lip, swallowing hard. This was upsetting her. "Please Tim. I'm not wrecking this for you…I…I got caught up in some of Jason's stuff and I apologize, I have no right to get involved in your life, especially now. It's your life and you're…you're a big boy. You're fine without me judging."

Well thanks, he thought, narrowing his eyes. He shook his head, whispering. "That's not why I'm here. To talk about that." Although it wasn't any of their business. He took a deep breath, holding it for a moment before he leaned in again. "Just shut up," he warned, when she opened her mouth again. He kissed her, slowly pulling her against him. It was just a test. He pulled back a moment later, with he rjust standing there. He took another deep breath and forced a smile. "There. All out of my system."

Lyla glared up at him, angry. "It shouldn't be in your system."

"Melanie knows you and Vince aren't together. She's at her apartment tonight."

"You should go apologize to her."

"She's jealous…I don't know why she's jealous."

Lyla laughed, pushing him away from her. "You are such an idiot. She's jealous because you've kissed me twice in eight hours and you haven't seen me in years, Tim. You've been with a woman for six months and you're kissing me. Something isn't right and I tried to play on it tonight and I'm sorry. You are who you are and you know what? This is a new you and maybe the new you is boring and steady and dates elementary school teachers and doesn't stay out past ten. Forgive me for thinking that that isn't you, because you do have an edge, but…but a jealous girlfriend, Tim?"

I thought you weren't going to care about my love life anymore. He grinned, but it wasn't a teasing or joking smile. It was kind of twisted. "I dated you for a year, didn't I?"

"I wasn't jealous." She grinned. It was equally nasty as his. "And you? Jealous? Tonight you might as well have peed in a circle around me to keep Vince away."

What the hell? He held up a finger. "Okay…I would never do that!"

"You've done stuff similar to it," she laughed. She smiled. "Besides, it's a metaphor. You were jalous and I'll admit, I was a little jealous too. Let's let bygones be bygones, I go back to Dallas on Monday and you keep up your little happy life with Melanie, as boring as you want it to be."

It's not boring, he wanted to yell. He scowled. "Fine. I'm going."

"Fine."

"I want to come to the training center." He turned around, throwing his hand to the phone. "And what the hell is Billy texting you for? Why are you talking to my brother?"

Lyla cocked her head, grinning. "Well you'll just have to let Billy tell you that, now won't you?"

"Fine. He'll tell me." Depending on if he wanted to taunt me with it or not. He looked around the room again, narrowing his eyes and growling. "Are you going to say anything to Melanie? She's freaking out."

"Go apologize to her, buy her flowers, and tell her that I'm just a friend and if it makes her feel better, you won't see me again," Lyla said. She held a hand in front of her face and then moved it a little, smiling sadly. "Tell her that you won't ever see me again if it makes you happy. You deserve to be happy and if this is you happy, then fine for you. I know I'm better off not dealing with all this drama."

Whatever. I'm done here, he thought, turning around and looking at her. He scowled. "Are you divorced?"

Her eyebrows skyrocketed to her hairline. Uh-oh, he thought, as they slowly came back down and kept going until they formed an angry 'v.' Shit, she's mad. Of course she'd be mad. "You went through my phone!" She lunged at him, punching at his shoulder. "That's my life! Whatever you read in there, you have to keep to yourself, Tim, I'm dead serious, if you even think of telling anyone…"

"I won't tell, geez, calm down." There were a few names in there, meetings with players he had no idea were interested in coming to the Cowboys or that they were interested in. He guessed that was why she wanted it kept secret.

Lyla pushed her hand through her hair, dropping her hands to her hips. She looked up at him, shaking her head again, giving up. "I was married. Four years ago. I've been divorced for two. Almost two." She pursed her lips, her eyes still focused intently on his. Her voice dropped again, to a hushed whisper, like she was embarrassed and even speaking about it was too much for her. "He was in my MBA program, he was a very sweet guy. He wanted a family and he wanted a wife and he wanted them after he joined a Fortune 500 Silicon Valley company, which he did. The problem was, Tim, was that he also wanted that little wife to be just that. A little wife who let him have his career before hers."

And you are now a Vice President with an NFL company, a woman in a man's world, I got ya', he thought, smiling a little. He was kind of proud of her, kicking a guy like that to the curb. "Mistake, huh?" he asked.

She smirked. "One of the many I've made in my life. We were terrible married. We were better off as friends and we still send each other Christmas cards. He met a girl after we divorced and they've been married for almost two years and have a kid. We both have what we want."

Yeah, but do you really have what you want, he wondered. He smiled again; that made him feel a little better, although he had absolutely no idea why. If Garrity got married…it shouldn't be his business. The fact that she kept it secret was probably what bothered him. "Why didn't you tell?" he asked, frowning again. Meaning, why didn't Buddy tell?

"Daddy didn't tell you because he probably knew it wouldn't last and he didn't want to hurt you," Lyla said. She reached up, adjusting his collar, much like he'd adjusted her necklace earlier. She smoothed her fingers over the flannel, sighing and resigned. Her eyes rolled back to his. "Daddy loves you. He doesn't like you hurting."

Could have fooled me, but he knew what she was talking about. He smiled again, stepping back to the doorway. "I better go." He looked down at her lips. Damnit. He wanted to kiss her again. She shook her head, almost imperceptibly, reading his mind. He took a deep breath. This was going to hurt, but it had to be said. For both their sakes. He tapped his lips with his fingertip. "I kissed you because I wanted to see if I still felt anything. I don't."

"Neither do I." She said it too quickly.

Liar, he thought. He wasn't sure if he meant her or himself. He turned around, leaving her standing in the center of the flowery room, going quietly down the stairs and out past Vince, who was holding open the door. "Good luck with her," he said, serious. Anyone who dealt with Garrity on a regular basis needed it. "And don't stay in Oakland too long, Dallas needs a better quarterback."

"Don't I know it."

Tim smiled, leaving the house; Vince wasn't a bad guy. Anyone that took care of their mother the way he took care of his was a good guy. Anyone who was friends with Lyla, same. He went to his truck and climbed up into it, looking up at the window with the light still on. Lyla stepped in the light, peering down. She lifted her fingers up, waving. He waved back. Stupid. He sighed hard, backing out of the driveway and turned onto the road, heading towards town.

He'd give Melanie space. Apologize tomorrow. Talking was not his forte, especially about relationships. He wasn't going to get into her being jealous or anything. He didn't care, so long as she stuck around. He didn't know what Jason meant about him being boring now or even Lyla. It wasn't their business and quite honestly, he was fine. He just…he sighed, his arm draped over the steering wheel. He wasn't alone. That's what mattered.

Instead of going to his house, he went to another, walking up to the backdoor and knocked. The door opened a few minutes later, a sleepy Becky holding it open. "Can I sleep here tonight?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, pulling the door open. "Fight with Melanie?"

"Sort of."

"About Lyla?"

"Yes."

"Did you kiss Lyla?"

"Yes."

"You can take the kid's bed, I'll put her in with me, Luke's on the couch."

He frowned, following her upstairs. "Why is Luke on the couch?"

Becky scowled at him, throwing an extra blanket in his arms as they reached the end of the hallway. She arched an eyebrow. "Because he came home one morning hungover and didn't tell me where he was, that's why Luke's on the couch." She paused a moment, frowning. "Tyra said she tried to warn you about Lyla. I guess this is her verison of 'told you so', if she knew about it."

Which she will, because you'll tell her, he thought, waiting for her to take her daughter out of the princess bed and put her in the big bed in Becky's room. He went in and sighed, looking down at the tiny thing. I might as well sleep on the floor, he thought, stretching the blanket out on the floor. He took a pillow in the shape of a cloud and dropped it down at the top of the blanket before crawling underneath it, staring up at glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling. He looked up when Becky came back in, putting another blanket over his shoulder. "Thanks," he mumbled.

She knelt down at his side, reaching to lightly rub at his shoulder. "Go to sleep. Apologize to Melanie in the morning and stay away from Lyla Garrity unless you want your heart broken again. It would be stupid to give up a good thing with Melanie to go after that again."

Yeah, I guess it would, but I don't have feelings for her anymore, he lied to himself. He waited until Becky closed the door before he curled deeper into the blanket, closing his eyes. A few minutes later there was an orange tabby cat, Ariel, curled up beside him. He sighed. Stupid, he thought; shaking his head slightly, mad at himself for letting this get so out of control. It was just stupid.


	5. The Blitz

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews :) Enjoy.

* * *

**5. The Blitz**

"Billy."

"Lyla."

She gestured to the seat across from her in the coffee shop, which was already pulled out slightly. "Have a seat," she drawled, keeping her voice even. She arched an eyebrow, her lip curving up with it in her best executive smile. I'm in control of this, she thought, as he tried to make the table his own, moving her coffee cup out of the way and pushing aside some of the papers she had set up. She chuckled. "Oh Billy."

Billy cocked his head; he was wearing a Dillon Panthers baseball hat and an old "Riggins Rigs" t-shirt with ratty jeans. If this was an official interview, she thought, letting that hang. He got a freebee because he didn't know what this was about. All he knew was that she wanted to talk to him, she'd been asking for a few days now, and here they were. As he didn't know it was an interview, she'd dressed in a pair of dark jeans, her cowboy boots, and a crisp white button down. She reached for her portfolio, opening it up and removed a pen, lifting up Billy's background, which she'd had Clinton run before she left Dallas. "Well, let's get started, shall we?"

He scowled again, pointing at her and then at him. "What is this? You're not warning me off of Tim or something? This is weird, Lyla."

I couldn't have done it any other way, she thought, ignoring him and tapped her pen to the paper. "The last five years you've been an official scout for the Dillon Panthers and before that you were an assistant offensive coordinator, is there any reason why you didn't pursue that full time?" She reached for her coffee, taking a sip and then set it down, moving his out of the way. I'm in control Billy, she thought, her gaze returning to his.

His face screwed up; he leaned back and placed his hands palm down on the table. On one hand he had his state ring and on the other he had a worn wedding band. Say what you want about the two of them, Lyla thought with a small smile, but Billy and Mindy had managed to last. She lifted her eyebrow again, waiting. Billy shook his head slightly. "I like scouting. I don't like being in the office. Why do you care?"

"You scouted five All-Americans and a Heisman winner." She ran her tongue over her teeth, her voice crisp. I know what I'm doing. I'm not stupid. "Did you know that in the last eight years you've been working for Dillon High, you have personally been responsible for bringing to the team twenty different players who all went on to participate in college football teamst hat either won a National Championship or a conference title?" She picked up blank pieces of paper, dropping them in her portfolio, where he couldn't see them; she knew the names by heart. "Ashton Cooper from Westerbee, Ohio State National Championship…Raylon Jenson from Killian, Oregon University PAC12 championship…Ahmad Mack from Sugarland, Alabama University SEC championship…" I could go on, she thought, her eyes narrowing on his. "And three of those that you've scouted are now in the NFL. They're doing well."

"Yeah, so?" He was growing defensive, shifting in his seat. He glared at her. "You accusing me of something Garrity? Juicing them or something?"

Quite the contrary. She ignored his accusation, leaning back in her seat and began to flick her foot up and down, distracting him slightly. "You brought them all over to Dillon. Won a few more State championships. You saw something in them before they were really on the map with the rest of the world. For every Jason Street there is a Vince Howard. Someone with raw talent who needs to be sculpted, molded. You can see how they play into the current team." She smiled again, her voice soft. "I want you to come to Dallas."

She reached into her portfolio, removing a silver folder with a large Cowboys star on it. Billy stared at her for a moment. He laughed; a loud, guffaw laugh. Disbelieving. "Excuse me?" He pointed his finger into the table, leaning forward, still grinning. "Pardon my French Miss Lyla, but what are you fucking smoking, huh? This some joke? Come in and make fun of the people left behind in Dillon?" He pushed her portfolio aside, leaning back in his seat, still glaring angrily at her. "Well no. I'm not going to do this with you."

That's just too bad. She took a deep breath, peering at the file and then over to him again, still smiling. This was a typical reaction. Billy was a blusterer. He just made sounds but there was no real emotion behind a lot of it, unless you really tipped him over the edge and there was only one thing she knew that would send him flying over the edge. "I know that Tim…that you haven't been really close lately. For some time. Not the way you were." She waited a moment; he grew quiet and looked up at her, silent. She cleared her throat. "You and Mindy…you have kids, you a family and you want to provide for them. You want to show Tim that you're not just the screwup. Even if you've kept a good job all these years and you've succeeded, Tim still sees you as the brother that screwed up." The brother that landed him in jail, she thought, but she said nothing. It took a private investigator and about torturing Jason to get that little bit of information out; Tim didn't even know she knew.

She set the file in front of him. "What's this?" Billy asked. He didn't look at it, choosing to follow her as she stood up and set a tip down beside her empty coffee mug. He flicked at the corner. "Some bribe?"

Lyla picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder. She zipped up the portfolio, smiling down at Billy. "It's your future Billy. I'm not bad at my job. If I was, they wouldn't have hired me. Most of my job is acquiring the talent and working with the coaches on what we need. Wheeling and dealing with lawyers and agents and other teams." She tapped her finger on the file, her nail clicking against the smooth surface. "The other part is hiring the scouts who go find me what I'm looking for, because I can't very well visit every college in America." She patted his shoulder, walking by. "You'll make the right decision."

As she walked out, she paused at the door, turning her head slightly so she could hear; it didn't take long, she knew he was going to look. "Holy shit! That's a real number!?" he exclaimed. Yup, he just saw his take home salary. Lyla chuckled, leaving the coffee shop and went to her car. He'd decide the right way, she thought, setting everything into the car. It was one of Buddy's; she hated it, so next time she'd drive her SUV out here.

She rummaged around in her bag for the keys, straightening up and screaming when she saw Tim on the other side of the window. Holy crap! He didn't want to make a sound? She turned the car on and rolled the window down, shouting at him. "Idiot! You scared me!"

"Sorry. What's Billy doing in there?"

"Hopefully he's making a good decision."

Tim glanced at her; she couldn't see his reaction through the dark tint of his aviators. He cleared his throat, his eyebrows rising above the slim silver frames. "Have you…have you met Billy Riggins?"

She smiled, in spite of herself. "Touche, but no, I think he's making a good choice." She draped her arm outside of the truck. "What are you doing?"

"Getting coffee. What about you?"

"I always get coffee about this time." She ran her tongue over her teeth; last night in the room at Vince's house had been pretty intense, more than she'd have liked it to be, which was not at all. She cleared her throat, her fingertips brushing over his wrist. "How are you and Melanie? If I can ask?"

"You can ask, I might not give you an answer." He paused; he'd give her an answer. He sighed, looking off towards the coffee shop before he mumbled. "I spent the night at Becky's. Talk to her this morning. We're having lunch. What are you and Jason doing?"

"Going to the lake. Vince is spending the day with his mother."

"I didn't ask about Vince."

"Well look who is all jealous again," she chuckled, as his cheeks turned a very pale shade of pink in frustration. She liked messing with him. It was better to joke and laugh with him than the other option. Which was get sad and frustrated at how they'd ended up. She sighed, her eyes still on his, if he was even looking at her through those sunglasses. "Tim I want us to be friends. Please." Maybe I'm begging. I don't care. "Can we at least do that?"

Tim leaned on the open window, his hand brushing over hers. He squeezed her wrist, comfortingly before he patted it and then pushed away from the car. "Yeah," he said, nodding. He ran his hand over his hair. "Yeah, friends. We can be friends."

"Apologize to Melanie." If she makes you happy, of course, she thought, trying to keep her disproval in check. She didn't know her from Adam. She cleared her throat, shifting the car into reverse, calling out the window as she backed out of the parking space. "See you later!" Get me the hell out of here, she thought, driving off. She looked in the rearview mirror, seeing Billy walking out of the coffee shop, the file folded up in his hands. He immediately hid it from Tim. Interesting.

She turned, driving away and out towards the boonies, to the side of the lake where Tim and Jason and her used to hang out. She'd do some work there. Vince was going to spend the day with his mother. They were going to plant flowers, which she'd found was an outlet for her need for something else to do with her hands. He was such a good son, she loved that so much about him. She tried very hard to ensure that no one else knew about it. Vince wanted his mother's troubles with drugs and alcohol to remain as quiet as he possibly could, unless Regina wanted to come forward. In his free time, during the offseason, he did a lot of work with rehab facilities and charities. Vince wasn't interested in limelight. He just liked playing football and using the benefits he received from it to help take care of his mom.

I have got to get Williams. The thought popped in her head. It was the only way, she thought. They only way any of this would work for the Cowboys. I'll get there, I have to work my way slowly. She drove by a red convertible, parked on the side of the road, the hood up and a familiar blonde leaning over it. She sighed, wanting to keep going, but…hell. She pulled over in front of her and climbed out, slowly walking towards Melanie, who had quite noticed her yet. "Do you need a ride?" she called out.

Melanie screamed, falling backwards and tripping a little on her flip-flop. She pressed her hand to her heart. "Oh my God! I didn't even notice…" She suddenly straightened, composing herself and tugging a little on the red miniskirt she was wearing. Lyla grew a little jealous, just for a second; there was no way she'd ever be able to pull off a skirt that short. "I'm fine thank you," the other woman said, glancing back down at the engine. "I keep meaning to take this thing into the shop. I just get sidetracked with things."

"You never had Tim look at it?" Lyla asked. She leaned over the engine and frowned, reaching down to the diptick and removed it. She glanced at the readout, wiped it with a Kleenex in her pocket, and then stuck it back in again. She removed it again, her eyebrows lifting and looking at Melanie, who was frowning, slightly confused. "You have like no oil left."

"Why would Tim look at my car?"

She removed the cap on the coolant; that was pretty much gone too. To be honest, the car probably just died because it hadn't been serviced. She didn't think much of Melanie's comment, leaning over the engine to remove the cover. "Because Tim is like a car whisperer. He's good. Taught me everything I know." That had been ridiculous. He'd gotten so frustrated with her when she didn't learn immediately what the components of an engine were. After a few painful weeks, she'd been able to at least name everything. She'd kind of picked up things here and there over the years. Used to change her own oil and brakes until she got into the money and bought herself a fancy car she didn't need to fix when it broke. She could just buy a new one.

Hmmm, Lyla thought, frowning at some of the pipes. She turned around, to tell Melanie that she'd probably be able to at least get the thing started long enough for her to get it to a service center. Only Melanie was now glaring at her like she'd just kissed Tim in front of her. "Um…" she trailed off, her eyebrows furrowing. "What's wrong?"

"Tim never told me he worked on cars." She crossed her arms tighter over her chest, her neck muscles cording with tension. Uh-oh, I really stepped in it, Lyla thought, ducking her head and walking over to the truck she'd borrowed. Her dad didn't do anything with his hands except wave them wildly when he was talking, but he kept tools in his cars in case he needed them. Not that he knew what to do with them. She removed a tool chest from the back, walking over to the engine. Why wouldn't Tim tell Melanie that, she wondered, lifting her eyes again as she selected a wrench, leaning in and began to work the screws on the side of the engine cover to completely remove it. Melanie walked around to the other side of the car. "What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing your car."

"I can apparently call Tim and get him to do it," Melanie snapped. Yeah, you could, but he's otherwise indisposed with Billy at the moment. The other woman knelt at the side of the car, placing her elbows on the side. She sighed, frustrated. "He doesn't tell me anything. I have to fight to get information and his family is worse."

Are you seriously confiding in me about Tim, Lyla wondered, glancing through some of her hair, which had fallen out of its ponytail. "Huh," she merely said. Oh man Tim, you're a dead man, she thought to herself. It made no sense. He liked cars. He worked on his truck all the time, how could Melanie not know that? Six months of dating and apparently she was clueless about what made Tim tick.

Not that many of us are aware of that little secret, she thought darkly. Only her and Jason probably. Maybe Coach Taylor. It was a mystery and always kept changing. Melanie tapped her fingernails on the side of the car again, blowing out a hard breath. "He didn't tell me about you. About how you guys broke up…just said you went to college." She paused. I'm not touching that with a ten foot pole, Lyla thought, jerking at things in the car, her hands growing oily and dirty. This felt good actually, doing something with her hands. Melanie coughed, noticeably. "I know it seems like I'm jealous. I just love Tim and here you come, this…this mysterious woman who people don't tell me about or…or even he doesn't tell me about. You're rich and you're pretty and you're smart. You even can fix cars, I mean what can't you do?"

"Keep a relationship," Lyla said, trying to joke. Her stomach flipped. This was not the conversation she wanted to have with a therapist, let alone with her ex-boyfriend's current girlfriend. She reached back into the toolbox for a screwdriver. She tossed her hair out of her eyes, feeling sweat start to trickle down her back. It wasn't from the heat either. I feel like I'm sitting under a lamp, trained on my brain and wanting to know every detail of my life. She wiped her forearm on her forehead, smearing grease across her face. She smiled quickly at Melanie, who just seemed forlorn. "How'd you end up in Dillon anyway?"

"Boyfriend. I followed him here. He…he worked on oil rigs and I was a teacher…I could do that anywhere so here I am," Melanie said. She rolled her eyes, smiling again. She had a pretty smile. "He ran after the first bit of Texas tail he could. I'd already started at the school and didn't want to move. I was here about a year before I met Tim. He wasn't…he wasn't like the usual guys I dated."

"Yeah, he's…different."

Melanie began to laugh. "I'll say. He took me to dinner. Fancy restaurant."

Whoa. Lyla almost whipped her head up so hard she practically cracked it on the hood of the car. She frowned; that wasn't right. "Fancy restaurant?"

"Marcello's? He was so nervous, but I think he just wanted to make a good impression."

Maybe he really had changed. There was no way Tim would voluntarily go into a restaurant with white tablecloths and a dress code. Something was off. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. "So…what else did he do?"

Melanie lifted a shoulder, shrugging nonchalantly. "It was very sweet. We went on a few dates. He just…he was quiet. He listened to me when I talked about my old boyfriends, missing them. He let me spend the night, the whole night, do you know how good that felt? I was always the pretty blonde. Nevermind I graduated at the top of my class and was summa cum laude at Ole Miss. My whole life I just…I just follow guys around. Be what they want. I want to be what I want, you know?"

Oh my God. Lyla glanced up again, her brow wrinkled. She swallowed hard again, listening to Melanie continue, pacing back and forth beside the bed, waving her hands about how frustrating it was to date guys that never shared information with her; she thought Tim was different, but he just kept things close, he just wanted her to be around, but he loved her. "Although it took him three months just to say the words and I think he's said them a total of four times, he looks like he's swallowing castor oil when he says them, but I just smile and think he's a sweet guy that doesn't like talking about his feelings!"

This is me, she thought, her hands shaking a little as she replaced parts of the engine. She tried to block Melanie out. I don't want to hear about her problems with Tim. How he doesn't share anything, how he gets angry when she tries to find out things, but she just lets it go because otherwise it was good to feel like someone else cared about you. Because Tim did care. The only thing was….Melanie glanced at her. "I'm not jealous because I want to be you or because I think Tim wants to be with you again and will kick me to the curb. I'm just…" she frowned a little, her red lips pursing. She crossed her arms over her chest, rocking back on her flip flop. Casually elegant, that's what Lyla thought she looked like. "I'm just wondering why he would let someone as seemingly perfect as you go. Why you would know more things about him than me and not be with him. That's all."

There's a lot to those questions. She straightened up, wiping her hands on a cloth she'd located in the toolbox. She slammed down the hood of the car, Melanie jumping slightly at the sound. "You're good to go, but take it to the service station, I patched it as best I could." She began to put the tools away. I'm not answering that question.

"Lyla please. Just answer."

I can't, she thought, looking back up at Melanie. It might as well have been her, several years ago. A smart, pretty girl who followed guys around and pretended to be what they wanted. It just took one thing Melanie said for her to realize what Tim wanted. Melanie might not have even realized that that's what he…he basically put up with her for. She didn't think it was her place to break that news. Melanie had to figure it out for herself. She glanced up again. "I…" she trailed off, turning away. She walked back to the truck, placing the toolbox back up into the back. She sighed hard. "I think you need to ask Tim."

Who won't ever answer that question. He'll break up with you before he answers that question. Melanie pressed a little harder. "He won't tell me," she murmured. She cocked her head, almost begging, her pale blue eyes wide and her forehead wrinkled in upset. "Please Lyla, I wouldn't be asking if I didn't think that it didn't matter. I just…I just want to know, for piece of mind…because I'm trying to figure out why someone I love and is supposed to love me can't even tell me that he likes to work on cars…" she trailed off, laughing sadly. It was almost a sob. "It makes me wonder what else he's lied about. Who else."

It must be tough. The Riggins family was a tough nut to crack. They felt incredibly deeply, but you wouldn't know because they were so good at hiding emotions. Throw in the tough as nails Collette girls and Becky Sproles, who was Tim's watchdog, taking down anyone she perceived as a threat to him, it was truly a wonder Melanie had held on as long as she had without killing any of them or just leaving in frustration. Lyla ran her tongue over her teeth. She closed her eyes. Just do it. Tell her. She shook her head slightly, her voice soft. "Tim and I broke up because I went to college. I got in my car to drive to Nashville and he was supposed to meet me to say goodbye. He was supposed to come with me and fly back with my dad, but…but he didn't." That hurt, when Buddy finally said they had to be on the road and to just let Tim go. She smiled sadly at Melanie's understanding look. "And I called him and called and left nasty voicemails. He ignores because he thinks that it's easier that way."

"I know," Melanie said.

No, you probably didn't know half of it; you'd probably just had a taste. Lyla shook her head again, her eyebrows lifting slightly. "I came back for a three-day break. We were happy. For three days and he basically proposed to me." Even more than a decade later it still hurt, to remember how painful it was. For both of them. Painful for her to say no and painful for him to ask, even though he knew she would say no. She blinked quickly; tears were pricking the corners of her eyes and above all else she could not cry in front of Melanie. "And I left. I said goodbye and I left and he let me go and…and we've seen each other about three times since then."

Melanie frowned again. "How long have you known him?"

"Since we were little kids, I don't remember not knowing him," Lyla whispered. Now I sound like…like some melancholy maudlin, she thought, brushing hair from her eyes again. This was silly. It was time to break this up. She pursed her lips tight, taking a few calming breaths. "Look…he loves you, Melanie. He's tough. It takes a lot of work and…and if you're worried he's still keeping things from you…from someone who loved Tim to another who does…" She took a deep breath. I cannot believe I am giving this woman advice. Her voice trembled. "You have to confront him and…and put down an ultimatum. He'll balk and it might be…it might be bad, because…because he may still say no and then you have your answer."

"What answer?" the other woman murmured.

This will suck. Lyla shrugged, stepping back to the truck. She looked over her shoulder as she opened up the door. "The answer to whether or not he's worth sticking around for or whether there's someone out there you deserve more." She climbed into the truck before Melanie could protest, get angry, or…or whatever. She was beginning to have trouble breathing. It felt like there was an elephant on her chest.

Oh my God, she thought, hitting her head back against the rest as she drove off down the road. Oh my God. Melanie was her. Melanie was her, before she…before she figured things out. A blonde version of Lyla Garrity before the big…the big crash, she liked to call it. The grand realization during her first few weeks of college that she wasn't some quarterback's girlfriend, she wasn't the perfect daughter, or the Christian missionary or…or even the bad girl. She was everything put together in one package.

That's what I am now. I'm good at it, I use it to my advantage, much like she had this morning. Sweet Lyla Garrity, using her smarts and her pretty smile and her meanness to get Billy Riggins to agree to a job. Which he hadn't, but he would. She blew out a hard breath, shaking her head. Melanie said one thing that had her on edge. Had her wishing she could tell her without seeming like the ex-girlfriend that now wanted Tim back.

_He let me spend the whole night._

Tim liked the idea of commitment. He liked to tomcat around, he enjoyed the conquest, but deep down he was a monogamist. It just resonated with her. Made sense why Tim would let her practically live with him. Lyla shook her head, murmuring to herself. "Damn you Tim Riggins." She was a nice girl. She had no doubt that he knew it.

Don't bother thinking about it anymore, she tried telling herself, pulling the truck into the parking lot by the lake, beside Jason's rental. She climbed out and walked down to the stretch of beach where Jason was sitting in his chair, wearing a panama hat and a Hawaiian shirt. "It's not even June," she said; it was hot though. She tugged off her shirt, keeping her tank top on as she rolled up her jeans to her calves. She was filthy and sweaty.

"Where were you? Tim's on his way."

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, grabbing a beer out of the chest beside his chair. She sank down into the sandy dirt, smiling up at him with twisted lips. "I just fixed Melanie's car on the side of the road."

Jason almost spit out his beer. He coughed a few times. "Excuse me? You did what?" He pointed to her with his beer bottle, glaring. "We are supposed to be fixing this…"

"We are not doing anything!" she exclaimed. Damnit Jason. She flung her arms out to the sides. Anger rose up within her chest. "This isn't our business, Jason! Tim is…Tim is Tim. He's lonely and he loves people and he wants Melanie in his life, then fine! Personally I feel bad for her and think that…I think that Tim wants certain things from her and she's giving them to him, but she wants more and Tim can't give it." She paused, staring straight at Jason. Her voice softened. "If you want to break them up for Tim's sake, that's your problem but I'm not getting involved. Personally I wish I could tell Melanie that he's only using her because he doesn't want to be alone."

I hope like hell that's the only reason, she thought, glancing away. She closed her eyes, taking a few more deep breaths, bringing her heartrate back down to normal. This was just…this whole thing was insane. I'm going back to Dallas early. I have work to do. She looked back at Jason again; he was watching her, saying nothing. "What?" she mumbled, sipping her beer.

"Nothing. You just…you're different too now. In a good way…I could see what was going on at the bar last night. You didn't want to do anything to hurt Tim. He was jealous of Vince and by the way, you should have had a reality show following you and Vince around, that'd shut up those rumors quickly if they saw how awkward you guys are," Jason said, chuckling. He finished his beer bottle, setting it aside in the dirt, and folded his hands back over his knees. He waited another moment and smiled again, pushing his sunglasses up onto his nose. "Let Melanie figure Tim for herself."

I just don't want her to waste the good years, Lyla thought, looking away. She lifted her eyes up when a shadow fell over them, Tim standing there with a six-pack of beer. "What'd you tell Billy?" he asked again, instead of saying hello like a normal person. He waved his hand by his ear. "He's all crazy. Mumbling about salary versus benefits or something like that."

That's between me and Billy, she thought, smirking. "If Billy doesn't want to tell you, then Billy isn't going to tell you. Did you talk to Melanie?"

"Why?" he demanded, suspicious.

"Because her car broke down and I helped her fix it." Maybe Melanie would give herself a break from Tim. Just for a minute to…to figure things out for herself. She nibbled her lower lip, lifting her eyes again to meet his. She cleared her throat loudly. "I think she might want to talk to you soon."

After a few seconds, Tim looked away and walked around Jason's chair, sinking down in the dirt beside him. He removed a bottle of beer, cracking the cap and tossed it into the container. He swished it around for a few seconds before he finally looked up at her again, his voice soft. "You free next weekend in Dallas? I want to see the training center. I also want tickets."

Tickets, she thought, arching an eyebrow. "You hate professional football," she said.

"I do. There's no heart." He lifted his beer bottle back up again, mumbling. "Not for me. They're for Coach."

There was only one Coach to Tim Riggins, she thought, smiling warmly. "Yeah. I'm free. Anything for Coach. Is he bringing Mrs. Taylor?"

"I dunno. Can you make it happen?"

"I run the talent," she laughed, nodding and glanced at Jason again, who was smiling at them both. Wipe that off your face, she thought, scowling. She nodded again. "Yeah. Sounds like a plan. Call my office for details." Clinton hated when she set up things on her own, but he'd have to deal. This was family. She flicked the bottle around from side to side before she finally set it down, her arms draped over her knees, glancing between both of them. She finally smiled. This was nice. "We need to do this more often," she whispered.

Jason nodded, holding up his bottle. "I agree."

"Me three," Tim said, his voice soft. He looked away again and then back to her. "Come on Garrity. Tell us. You going after Williams this year or what? His contract is up with Miami."

Lyla laughed, shaking her head. Nuh-uh, she thought, climbing up from the dirt. She waved her finger around. "Nope. No one gets to know. It's my little secret." She removed her phone from her pocket, so she wouldn't lose it if she went wading into the water to cool off. She flicked through the headlines from Clinton quickly, freezing at one link. Aw, damnit, she thought, opening it up. Her eyes widened and mouth fell open. "Oh my God."

"What is it?" Jason asked, turning the phone so he could see it. He slipped off his sunglasses against the glare, taking it from her. He cringed. "Whoops. That's not going to be fun."

Tim took it from her next, sighing. "Aw, man." He frowned. "They know me." He immediately shook his head. "Get rid of it Garrity. No one can know me."

Yeah, believe me. No one can know you. No one should even know me, she felt like saying, but she did. She shook her head again. Damnit. She looked back at the headline, groaning. The PR nightmare. Ugh. _Is Dallas VP Cheating on QB Star Vince Howard With High School Ex? _There was a photo of her with Tim at the bar, climbing out of the truck and looking a little friendly as they stood close together. There was another picture of them at the table, Tim and her looking at each other as Vince had his arm around her shoulders, pretending that they were together. Damnit. Someone sent it in. Someone knew full well what they were doing. She threw the phone aside, closing her eyes and scrubbing at her face. Great. This was going to suck to clean up.

Thankfully she had her best friends sitting here. And one of them decided to treat her problem the only way he knew how. She looked up when she felt Tim slipping another beer into her open hand. He smirked, rather darkly. He was involved now too and she knew that that was going to come back to bite her in the ass. "Drink up."


	6. The Setup

**A/N: **Thanks for the reviews :) Because I don't have another fic after this, I'm staggering the updates, but I will finish it. It just might not be as fast as usual. Hope people still enjoy it :)

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**6. The Setup**

"How was Dillon?"

"Shoot me," Lyla said, throwing the folders and mail Clinton passed her as she entered her office. She shoved her sunglasses up onto her forehead, flicking through the various messages. None of them were urgent, except Ravyon Thompson said that if she even thought of trading him to the Dolphins for Williams, she had another thing coming. I'm not trading you, chill out, she thought, throwing them in the tray in the corner of the desk.

She shrugged off her jacket, still wearing the jeans and t-shirt she'd had on during the commercial flight from Dillon regional to Dallas. I should have gone home to change, but I've got too much to do. Starting with the pictures. It had gotten worse over the weekend; there were at least four more that had popped up of Vince walking around Dillon and of her and Tim at leaest one more time, coming back from the lake with Jason. She turned around, just as Clinton held up his hand. "I already contacted public relations, Evelyn will be down to talk to you about a strategy forward, right now she just said to ignore it and let them handle anything. They don't comment on personal lives."

"She's not my public relations rep," she said. She'd thought about it on the flight back. It would be easier to keep everything separate; besides, she didn't want to make a bigger deal about this than it already was. "Evelyn represents the image of the Cowboys. If mine tarnishes theirs, that's what she gets involved. Same goes for Oakland, I'll use Vince's guy." Jason had already put her in touch with the guy based out of New York. She still had to call him back.

Clinton didn't say anything; he merely consulted his notebook. "Evelyn will see you later today. Mr. Ellison wants to meet with you to go over the new scouts and a Ms. Melanie McKinley called. I don't know who that is, but she had your private code to get through the front desk." He lowered the notebook. "You know how I feel about you doing that."

Yeah, yeah, she thought, scowling up at him. "It's the girlfriend of a friend."

"The guy you were cheating on Vince Howard with?"

Not him too! "I'm not with Vince!" Vince wasn't even calling her back or answering her phone. He blamed her for this. He was private, he didn't like knowing that there was someone in Dillon, which was his haven, selling their photos. He didn't blame her, but she knew he was just…he was just off somewhere, secretly blaming her but not admitting it. She picked up her phone; she hadn't received a response back from her initial text almost a week ago. She dropped it back down on the glass top.

Clinton glared at the phone. "You keep doing that and you're going to break another desk."

"So get me a wooden one, this one is stupid." I'm tired and cranky. I don't care about desks at this point. She scrubbed her face. I want to work. She flicked her fingers to Clinton. "My schedule for the week, I'm going to be showing a couple friends around the compound on Saturday. Also, put Eric and Tami Taylor on the guest list for my private box."

"You know how I feel…"

"You want to do background on them or something?" she snapped; she wasn't in the mood to deal with Clinton's eccentricities. He closed his mouth; he knew now where her mind was. She shook her head slightly, mumbling. "Sorry. I'm just not happy right now." I want to know what ridiculous Dillonite thought they could get their fifteen minutes of fame.

Clinton left her alone to return messages and to calm down. She reached for the phone, dialing back Melanie. What in God's name did she want? "Hello?" Melanie asked, answering the phone a second later.

"It's Lyla Garrity, I have a message that you called me." She sounded so damn formal, she thought, rolling her eyes and leaning on the desk, her hand going to rake through her hair. I'm just tired, she thought again. Once she was done with a few things here, she was heading straight to her apartment to shower and crash into bed. She cleared her throat. "What can I do for you Melanie? Is everything alright?"

"Yes, everything's fine, I wanted to thank you again for helping me on the side of the road." Melanie paused. Her voice grew tighter. "You…you didn't need to do that. I am your ex's current girlfriend."

So that's still going on then, I take it, Lyla thought. She'd left Dillon early, not telling Tim anything. He hadn't reached out to her either, so she just assumed that he went back to Melanie, obviously to his girlfriend's anger or frustration. Maybe her departure helped them. Took away the instigator, she figured. "Well," she said, immediately stopping. How could she say this? She sighed, closing her eyes tight. "Well I'm not that type of person."

"You could teach Tyra Collette a thing or two. She hates me."

"Tyra doesn't hate you, she…" Well I don't know, she could hate you. Tyra also didn't hide her dislike well. She smiled quickly. "Take it from someone who has been on the receiving end of Tyra's wrath. It's almost a compliment that she thinks that much of you."

"Well either way…um, so I called because I wanted to say thanks again and I also just wanted to let you know that I'm going to come with Tim to Dallas this weekend, but…but I'll be there a few days in advance. I've got an appointment and wanted to see some friends who also live there now." Melanie seemed on the verge of asking something, so Lyla blurted out what she thought Melanie might be weedling around.

"Do you want to meet for a drink or something while you're here?"

Shit. That wasn't at all what she wanted to say. Melanie laughed. "Well I guess, um, sure. I also wanted to tell you that Tim came back…whatever you told him or something, I don't know….he just seemed a little more open. I don't know what it was, but he's kind of closing back up on me. I still haven't asked him about the car thing, but…I don't know. Maybe this weekend."

The only reason Tim seemed a bit more open was because he'd been with Jason. Even I don't think I hold that much effect on him now, but Jason could get Tim to say or do anything. They loved each other. Lyla figured that if Melanie didn't know about Tim's work with cars, then she certainly didn't know the extent of his friendship with Jason. I'll kill him, Lyla thought, closing her eyes even tighter. His refusal to acknowledge anything in his life was going to hurt a nice girl who was already used to being pushed aside by the guys she dated. I used to be you, she wanted to tell Melanie. I used to be you and get out now while you still can, before you realize you've lost absolutely any identity of yourself.

She dropped her hand from her forehead to clang on the glass desktop. "That's fine Melanie, um, just let me know when you're in town and we'll get that drink."

"I'll be there Thursday around seven."

Okay then. Lyla passed her the address to her penthouse, reminding herself she'd have to tell the doorman on duty that evening to let her on up. She said goodbye, because she couldn't fathom what else to talk about with Melanie, and by the time she had set the phone back in the cradle, it was ringing beneath her hand. She immediately looked up at the door as it pushed open, Clinton leaning against it. "A Tyra Collette," he said.

What the hell? She picked it up, instantly frowning. "Tyra?"

"I wanted to let you know that I took it upon myself to locate the person who leaked your name and photo to the media."

Lyla got up from the desk, punching the speakerphone as she picked up her bag, beginning to remove files. "You took it upon yourself?" she echoed. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "Why would you do that?"

Tyra's voice dropped, slightly threatening. "Because someone brought Tim into the public eye and believe me Lyla, the last thing I want is Tim spiraling out of control again." She immediately followed that up with a harsh laugh. "And before you think this is about me and Tim, when he's upset, Billy is upset and when Billy is upset, my sister is upset. You see where I'm going with this. I know people who know people in the media world and Julie called some people she knew, it got back to her that the photo came from some random person in the bar who recognized Vince and happened to know the history you have with Tim. They sold it for some cash."

"And who might this person be?"

"Brittany something."

Lyla narrowed her eyes. I used to know a Brittany-something who absolutely hated the very earth I walked on. She quirked her lip a little; haven't thought of her since I quit cheerleading. Apparently the same couldn't be said for Brittany. Plus, her jealousy had apparently extended beyond high school to the real world. "Send me the information, but don't do anything." To be honest, she wasn't sure she would do anything. That was just what someone like this wanted. Fifteen minutes, a paycheck, a press conference, something. Any acknowledgement for their bad behavior and she didn't plan on doing that. She barely gave Brittany the time of day in high school and she didn't plan on doing it now.

"Don't do anything?"

"Please Tyra. I know this involves me and Tim, but please. Vince and I don't want it to be a big deal." I'm speaking for him, but I still think that's what he'd want. She had to get in touch with him soon. She pushed her fingertips to her forehead. "I'll talk to you later Tyra. Thank you."

Tyra waited a moment, but didn't hang up. She cleared her throat obviously. "Tim and Melanie seem to be on the outs. Not as cutesy as they have been. Personally I think Melanie is wasting her time. Tim thinks he's a new person around her, but he's wrong. He's still the same old Tim."

No, he really isn't, Lyla thought. She closed her eyes tight. "Goodbye Tyra. Thanks for the info."

"Sure. By the way, I'm rooting for you guys."

Please don't, she thought, hanging up. She disconnected the speaker and walked over to her couch, kicking off her boots and falling backwards into the soft chenille pillows around her. Damnit, she thought, lifting up the folders. She picked up her pen and began to review a contract for a defensive lineman that wanted more money than she was willing to part with. Let's see if we can make this work, she thought, scanning the opening.

A few minutes later she'd dumped the contracts and was gathering up her things. She left the office, dropping some stuff on Clinton's desk to go over to the GM. "Tell anyone who asks that I'm in a meeting," she said.

"You going home for a few hours?"

"The rest of the day."

Clinton immediately lifted his head, his eyebrows almost comically above his glasses. "Excuse me?"

Lyla said nothing to him, leaving the office and going down the hallway to the elevator. It took a few minutes, but she'd managed to get out without being completely sidetracked, running into the GM, Ellison, once. He was really cute, to be honest, she was surprised there weren't rumors of the two of them together, especially since he was the one who hired her. Maybe the rest of the world knew he was gay too, although he didn't make a big deal of it or publicize it. She was just glad that there weren't rumors she was sleeping with the boss.

Just the quarterback, she thought with an eyeroll, stopping outside her SUV to send Vince a quick text. _I'm sorry about this, but it's under control. You won't be affected. _She climbed into the car and drove out of the compound. Halfway to her apartment, she stopped at a red light and looked at the incoming text on her dashboard.

_I know. I'm just tired of this. _

Don't worry, she thought with a small smile. She frowned a little at a new text alert, punching the button at the unfamiliar number. Her heart began to beat quickly in her chest. Yes, she thought. It was about time.

_I'm sorry Ms. Garrity, I was out of town. I'll call your office tomorrow…can I ask what this is about? I'm not sure what friend we may have in common other than one. I hope this isn't about him._

Oh but it is Jess, Lyla thought with a tiny smile. She shoved her sunglasses on. Matchmaker, matchmaker, I always get my way, she sang to herself, driving up into her parking garage a moment later.


	7. The Blind Side

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews! This chapter is much angstier than the rest, but it lightens up in the next one with Coach and Tami. :)

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**7. The Blind Side**

"Ms. Garrity, there is a Ms. Melanie McKinley here to see you."

Aw, shit. She was early. Lyla ran her tongue over her teeth and closed her eyes, pressing the button on her intercom. "Send her up." It would take a few minutes for the elevator to descend from her penthouse down 10 floors to meet Melanie. She glanced at the door, which opened directly into her foyer, wondering if she could hit the lock button to prevent anyone from entering. That might save her a few more minutes too.

Whatever, she thought. It was going to happen anyway. She walked over to her phone, dialing Vince. The phone rang a couple times before he answered. "What?"

"Are you still mad at me?"

"No. Why are you calling Jess?"

Her eyes widened. That was four days ago! How did he know she called Jess? She hadn't had a chance to talk to her yet. The school where Jess coached was in the midst of their first few practice sessions and she knew that the other woman would be busy, but it had been longer than she'd anticipated. She closed her eyes. How to play this? Stupid might work, but Vince was smarter than that. "Um…I don't know if you know this," she laughed, playing it off as best as she could. "But I'm in charge of hiring for the Dallas Cowboys and Jess is a coach…"

"She's a middle school football coach, Lyla."

"A very nice middle school. A very large middle school…"

"Don't do this," he almost begged. There was a muffled sound of something hitting something else. He was still in Dillon, probably he was hitting his head on the wall. "Lyla, there's enough crap going on, I don't need Jess involved in my life. Did my publicist call you back? We're going with the ignore approach and the Dillon Police know to basically arrest any paparazzi that shows up here."

They won't. There wasn't enough money in it, just a pathetic woman still holding a high school grudge. Some of us could move on and some of us could only live in the past. Brittany was sadly one of those people that still thought it was scandalous that Lyla Garrity cheated with the bad boy. Who wasn't even really a bad boy anymore. It had already lost its luster. There were still a few more photos that had made the rounds, but most everyone had moved on to some other 'real' celebrity, as she liked to call them.

She glanced at the elevator door, which dinged. "Vince, I just wanted to make sure we're okay. I'm sorry about the photos. Is your mom alright?"

Vince paused. That wasn't good, she thought, closing her eyes again, sending a prayer for Regina. "She's okay," he whispered. He sighed again. "I'm going to go. Please keep Jess out of this, Lyla. That was high school. People move on." He paused again. "Except for it seems you. I saw how you and Tim were."

The door opened and Melanie stepped into the penthouse, her eyes wide and mouth open in awe, taking it all in. She shook her head, still keeping her eyes on Melanie. "That was high school. People move on," she repeated, droned more like. She said goodbye and set the phone down, smiling wide at Melanie. "Glad to see you made it here it safely. Did you have trouble?"

"Oh, no, your directions were great, this place is amazing! I think you could fit like ten of my apartments in this living room!" Yeah, well it was too big for me, Lyla thought, following her out of the foyer and into the primary living room. There was a den, an office space, three bathrooms, and four bedrooms. It was two levels. It was too big. She only got it because she'd sent Clinton off to find her a place and this was the place she liked the most. She didn't want to spend much time here anyway.

It just reminded her how alone she could feel. Work was easier. She walked over to the kitchen. "Can I get you something to drink before we go out? There's a nice restaurant and bar a few blocks away where I made reservations."

Melanie shook her head, letting go of her small upright suitcase. She chuckled, her arms crossed over her chest. "I can't believe I thought you'd want to give this up to go back to Tim. I see I was wrong. There's no way he'd be able to stand it here."

That was rather pointed. "No, he wouldn't." But I would rather be in Tim's house. It was perfect. It was like it was her dream house. It even had a red front door. Lyla picked up her bag; she didn't like Melanie poking around. Making comments about Tim. This was going to be a difficult night for her anyway, but having her here was throwing her off. "Let's go, we can get a drink before our reservation."

"Oh, of course, I'll just leave my bag here…"

Lyla closed her eyes briefly. She cleared her throat again, opening her eyes again. She plastered a smile on her face. It only gets easier, she said to herself. "I'll show you to a guest room. You can spend the night until Tim and everyone comes in tomorrow."

Melanie grinned. "Thanks."

Sure thing. She led her upstairs to one of the guest rooms. It was the biggest, which wasn't much. "Here you are," she said, stepping aside. "I'll be downstairs." Lyla left before Melanie could make anymore comments about the state of the guest room. She ignored her buzzing phone. I can't even deal with work right now. She hit the button for the elevator, finally removing the phone. She glanced at it, her eyes widening. I know that number. She instantly answered. "Lyla Garrity."

"You can't tell him I'm calling you."

She grinned, stepping into the elevator with Melanie. "I won't." She leaned against the back of the elevator, arching an eyebrow. I can't deal with work, but this I can deal witih. "What can I do for you?"

"I hear you're interested in acquiring me after my contract is up after the end of this season. I'll have you know Lyla that I intend on getting myself another ring after this year. Miami's been good to me. Been good to my Momma and my little sisters," Smash drawled. He was a player who she had to let run their mouth. "And Jason Street is getting me a good deal with them. Working on it for a couple years now. More money. More everything."

Lyla pursed her lips. Yes, I know he's doing that. Jason could deal with the Miami management a lot easier than he could her. That's why. She didn't have to deal with Jason on Smash though. There was another manager she had to contend with. "You know Smash, I left a message with your mother, we're going to have coffee in a few weeks when she's in Texas visiting some old friends." She waited a moment; he drew a sharp breath. Yeah, I thought so. "We'll talk later. It's good to hear from you, how are things outside of football?"

Smash was still wary; he knows my reputation, that's smart. "Fine. I guess. Got myself a young'un."

"Oh? I had no idea."

"Mother keeps quiet and all. We dated for a time, got married on the QT, that sort of thing. Didn't work out."

"Aw, I'm sorry." She stepped out of the elevator, walking into the parking garage and over to her spot, where her SUV was parked in one of the first spots. She climbed inside, quickly hitting the button to prevent the speaker system from engaging and broadcasting it for Melanie to hear. "How are things otherwise?"

"How are things with Riggins?"

Aw, damnit. "How…" she trailed off, her eyes darting to Melanie, who was listening to every single word. She backed out of the spot, turning towards the exit. "How do you know?"

"How don't I know, it's on the Internet." Oh. He laughed. "That blonde he's with is sweet, typical Riggins and all, but she doesn't keep him busy. Our Rig needs someone to push his lazy ass around. Haven't seen him in years though so I don't know."

No, you don't know. I hardly even know. "I'll let you go now," she said, ending the conversation. She coughed a couple of times. "I'll speak with you soon. Good luck this year."

"Later Lyla."

Lyla threw the phone down into the cupholder, glancing at Melanie again. "Work," she said, sort of lying. "Sorry about that. You have my attention." Not really. "So have you met Coach and Mrs. Taylor? They're very nice people."

"I haven't, actually. They've been in town a couple of times, but Tim never told me when he was seeing them so we always missed." Melanie waited a second. She fisted her hand around her red clutch. It matched her nails and her lipstick. She was very put-together. Pretty, Lyla thought. Incredibly chic for someone living in a small Texas town that only had honkytonks.

That's odd. Coach Taylor was one of the closest father figures that Tim ever had. He respected him, listened to him above anyone else. Except for maybe me and Jason. To not introduce him to Melanie? Who was supposed to be his serious girlfriend? All that did was make Lyla think more that Tim was just using Melanie as a security blanket. A nice thing to massage his ego and love him. Take care of him. That's all he wanted. Someone who saw him as this nice person who worked in construction and came home at the end of the day to his teacher girlfriend and then he watched football while she did his laundry.

Tim I could freaking kill you. Melanie was clueless about it and she didn't deserve it. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair because Lyla was pretty sure that Tim was still in love with her. Those kisses did nothing to dissuade her from that thought. I don't love him, she thought. That was a lie. She would always love him. She pushed it from her mind, pulling into the valet spot and climbed out, walking over to take her ticket. "You're the Manager of the Cowboys?" the valet asked, laughing when he recognized her. "That is so awesome! Are we going to get Williams?"

"Acquisitions is over, now it's contract negotiation season," she said with a polite smile. She slipped the paper into her bag, smiling again at his slight frown. "Thank you." I'm also not the manager, although it was hard to tell sometimes with Ellison. He let her have a ton of leeway. She walked into the restaurant, approaching the bar and took a seat. "Jack Daniels," she ordered, setting her clutch on the bar beside Melanie's.

"White wine," Melanie ordered. She folded her arms on the bar, glancing around. Her eyes were wide again. "This place…it must be really nice, to always be able to go to fancy restaurants and bars."

It wasn't bad. She had refined tastes; always had. Lyla took the drink, taking a sip of whiskey, which burned down her throat. She set it back down on the coaster, her fingers drifting around the rim of the fine glassware. "Give me a Dillon bar any day over this," she murmured. It was something she'd come to find about herself. It was why she was back in Texas instead of elsewhere. She missed it. It was part of her. Once a Texan, always a Texan. She cleared her throat. "So elementary school? How did you get into that?"

Melanie swallowed her wine, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes. "Let's not talk about me. I'm not important. How did you, of all people, get into football?"

"Blind luck." It really was. She arched an eyebrow. "You said you went to Ole Miss? How did a Georgian girl end up going to Ole Miss?"

"My momma was a cheerleader at Ole Miss. Sorority legacy and all that," Melanie drawled, her accent coming in much thicker than Lyla had ever heard. She really did sound like she was waltzing off of Tara. She tossed her cloud-like blonde hair over her shoulder, propping her chin on her hand. The rings she wore sparkled. A few guys were already looking at her. "Daddy wouldn't have it. Wanted me to be a Bulldog just like him, but I always wanted to be like my Momma. She passed when I was in high school."

Oh man, that was so sad. She frowned slightly, truly sorry. "I'm sorry," she murmured. She cleared her throat. "That must have been tough."

"It was tough on Daddy. He passed when I was in college. Broken-heart…I always imagined it was at least," Melanie murmured. She bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. "I always got in with the wrong guys. I was sad and angry over my mother. Drunk driver. She shouldn't have died. Daddy had a heart attack. He just let himself go after she passed. All the guys weren't right. I just…I don't know what happened." Melanie kept drinking. They'd already given her a second glass of wine, which she immediately took by the stem, taking long sips. She set it back down, a little harder than she should have, the wine sloshing up to the rim. Her brows furrowed. "I just thought it was easier to be with a guy. I wanted to keep him so I just did what he wanted. Acted like he wanted. Tim's the only one where I can be myself and at the same time I don't think he's himself with me. I just don't know."

No, you don't know, which makes this more difficult and sad. Lyla sipped her whiskey. It was sisterhood. I can't let her just keep going after him like this, she thought, biting her lower lip. It was going to seem petty. Old girlfriend getting rid of new girlfriend. "You know," she murmured, biting her lip harder and drawing blood. "Tim was not…he was very sad for a long time. Very, very sad."

"I've heard."

Only stories. "He drank a lot," she said. She took another deep breath. Tim is going to kill me. I have to do this though. "And he was my best friend. One of my best friends. It was always him and Jason and me. When Jason had his accident I was with him, did Tim tell you this?" Melanie nodded slightly, her eyes narrowed. "Well Jason…Jason was going to go be this great football star. Notre Dame, first round draft pick, professional football…and I was going to be his wife." That seemed so long ago. Now look at me. Single, but still in professional football. She smiled. "I was a stupid girl who lived in a fantasy world. The closest I ever came to understanding that bad things happened to good people was when I had to pick Tim up on the side of the road after he'd run away from his house. You see, he'd just come home to find that his father had left. His mother had abandoned them a couple years before. It was just him and Billy."

The look she received from Melanie confirmed what she already knew. Melanie had no idea that Tim's parents were out of the picture. Her soft voice seemed haunted. "He told me they were dead."

They are. Her dad told her that Tim got the phone call from cops in Florida saying his mother had died of a drug overdose. Last year Jason said that Tim and Billy had gone to a nursing home in Albuquerque where their father was dying of liver cancer. Only he didn't tell you that they only died recently and were just horrible parents before that. Although maybe they'd done a good thing and stayed away. Allowed Tim to become the good person he was, she thought. She wrapped her hand tight around her glass. "In any case," she said, bringing it back to her point. "I did this thing for awhile where I didn't know which end was up. I didn't know who I was, just that was no longer the football wife. I was a Christian missionary, but I was the perfect girlfriend again. I dated Tim and once again…" she trailed off, smiling quickly. "I was doing things I thought were me but weren't. Bad girl. I will say that the closest I ever came to being the person I am today was when I was with Tim. He has a way of letting people be who they are around him."

Which is why, if I'm right, Lyla thought, sipping her whiskey again and keeping her gaze focused on Melanie, that you're realizing who you are. Melanie opened her mouth, but hesitated, her brow creasing. She glanced sideways. "Are you saying that…" she trailed off, looking away. She touched her fingertips to her lips and cleared her throat, looking back again. "Are you saying that…that I'm just being who Tim wants?"

"I'm not saying anything," Lyla whispered. That was sort of it, but not all of it. "I'm saying that I understand what it's like to be the way you were. Living for a guy. It's not worth it in the end. In the end it's about who you are and what you want and…and Tim just…Tim has always wanted comfort." That's all he's wanted. She sighed hard. "Tim wants love. He loves love. He loves any way that you can be in love. Whether it's friendship or…or sex or family or anything. He's an addict, Melanie. He drinks because he has to drink. He loves because he has to love."

And it kills him to do it. Melanie pushed her hand through her hair, dropping it to the bar again. "Son of a bitch," she cursed. She closed her eyes and pushed her fingers into her forehead again. "He just…he's been so nice to me, he loves me…" She opened her eyes and glared at her. "This is because you want him. I saw those photos."

That's not true and you know it. "Tim and I have been apart for a long time," Lyla chose to say. She didn't want to outright lie to Melanie. Who the hell knew what her feelings for Tim were. Speaking from experience…that's why she didn't want Melanie to get hurt. Because she'd been there. She set her jaw. After a standoff with Melanie, she shrugged. "Believe what you want, Melanie. I'm not with Vince and you know it. Tim is one of my closest friends. He knows everything about me. I'm not lying about that. I know everything about him."

She waited a moment, until she had Melanie's complete attention. She took a deep breath. This was going to hurt, but Melanie needed to see it. "Where was Tim ten years ago? He wasn't in Dillon. Where'd he go?"

Melanie shrugged. "What's that matter?"

"Just answer."

She sighed, her eyes crinkled in concern. "I…he told me that he went…that for about a year or so he wasn't in Dillon because he was working."

"Where do you think he was?"

"I…" she trailed off, frustrated. "I heard rumors, Lyla. When I started dating him, but they weren't true. Tim would never go to prison. He wouldn't do something like that." She slapped her hand to her knee, obviously angry. "What's it matter?

You know why it matters. I can see it in your face. The bravado was gone and sitting before her was a woman who realized that the man she loved was just…it was just the same as it had been for her before. That Tim was essentially using her like the others did, he was a lot nicer and apologetic about it and I will kill him. "Because it's true," she said. She smiled quickly. "He was in prison. Chopping cars…he's changed, he's not the same as before or even after, but…but they're not rumors." And he didn't tell you. And he's going to kill me dead.

Melanie closed her eyes, hanging her head in her hands again. She wiped at her face, tears shining. They made her eyes look like frozen pools. "I'm so stupid," she laughed, wiping at her face again. She covered her mouth with her hand. "I'm just such an idiot that I ever thought you coming back into his life was going to be a good idea. I wanted to know you, to meet you and now look? A week later and…and I can't do this."

"I didn't intend for…" Lyla trailed off as Melanie hopped off the barstool, hurrying away. Damnit to hell. She threw down cash for their drinks and ran out, ignoring them calling her name for their table. "Melanie!" She found her at the end of the street, at the crosswalk, her arms wrapped around herself. She didn't touch her, just stood off to the side, frowning and begging with her. "I'm so sorry, I didn't intend for this…I know how it looks…"

Melanie looked over her shoulder, tears streaming down her face. "You know what they call you back in Dillon?" She wiped hard at her cheeks, laughing. "They call you the Saint. That's what they call you. Saint Garrity. I didn't know what it meant. All I knew was that you were this great person who got out of Dillon and you were rich and pretty and successful in a guy's world and I thought to myself…how the hell could someone like that be a perfect person? No one is perfect and…and now I'm realizing why they call you that."

Why do they call me that? I hate it. It wasn't even the town, it was just Billy and a few others. She shrugged, murmuring. "Why?"

"Because I should hate you and I should want to just rip your hair out and scream at you for destroying my relationship with Tim, but…" she laughed, throwing her hands up in the air. "But you just opened up my eyes. I thought all was good but it's the same as ever. I'm Tim's perfect little girlfriend who makes him dinner and gives him sex and he loves me, but he isn't in love with me because he's in love with the girl that drinks whiskey and goes toe to toe with football players." She seemed disgusted. "And to think I thought that was me."

I'm not a Saint. I'm not perfect. I'm not a good person. Lyla shook her head, whispering. "I'm so sorry. I just…I've been there and I should have let it go, but it isn't fair. It's not fair to you and Tim…trust me, he needs to know that what he's doing isn't right." He needs to face his past. To understand. She bit her lower lip, whispering. "Melanie…I think you're good for Tim. Better for him than me. I drive him crazy. He goes crazy." He kisses me when he's with you. "It's not good for him."

Melanie turned around, walking back to the restaurant and still holding her arms around her. "I'm just angry at…at him. Me."

You feel gullible. I've been there. "Talk to him. Just be open." He isn't going to talk back unless he's really…it's only fair. Lyla bit her lower lip. "Talk to him after this weekend. You might see a different side of him with the Taylors."

"Maybe." She didn't seem convinced. She stepped back into the restaurant, looking down at her; Melanie was about four inches taller. "Thank you Lyla. I know that's odd, but thank you."

Yeah. Happy to help, she thought darkly, stepping to their table in a private area of the restaurant. "Yeah, sure." She took the menu, not looking at it. She scanned the restaurant, frowning as someone approached their table. "Jeff," she drawled, looking up at her boss. "What are you doing here? I thought you hated Italian."

Jeff Anderson, the owner of the Cowboys, smiled down at her. He was surfer boy handsome, straight off a horse farm, which was how his family made the money that put them in a position to buy the Cowboys from the corporation which had previously owned it for an eternity. He loved football, played it at Vanderbilt, and sat at his daddy's knee to know the ropes. It was totally just for fun why he was engaged more with the Cowboys than the family business. "I do hate Italian food, but I thought I saw you come inside and you looked upset, thought I'd see how you were doing." He offered his hand to Melanie, smiling wide. "Jeff Anderson, pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Melanie drawled, syrup in her voice. Perfect Southern Belle. "You're Lyla's boss, right? Did you meet at Vanderbilt?"

"We did, I was playing football and Lyla was in the main office, but she did the equipment stuff so she was always down to see us." Jeff smiled at her again, completely ignoring Lyla. This might be a good thing, Lyla thought, knowing that Melanie could use the ego boost of a billionaire football heir flirting with her. Jeff was a hound though, so it wouldn't go anywhere.

Lyla leaned on her arm, smiling up at Jeff. "Melanie is in town to see some friends. She's dating a friend of mine from Dillon. I'm showing him and his old high school coach around the complex tomorrow."

Jeff's eyes lit up. "Oh, you have a boyfriend." He let go of her hand, which he was still holding. "Of course you'd be taken," he laughed. He glanced at Lyla, his voice immediately turning in tone. They were never even remotely romantic with each other. It was pure business. "Did I hear a rumor you're meeting with Corinna Williams in a couple of weeks? Why are you meeting with the mother?"

Because I'm better at this than you. "You'll see. Trust me." He did, but he didn't like being in the complete dark. She picked up the menu. "We still have to order. Either draw up a chair and join us or go. I'll see you Monday."

He nodded towards her. "Monday. Melanie, it was a pleasure to meet you, enjoy the complex tomorrow." He gave her another toothy smile and turned, walking off.

Melanie watched him walk before hse glanced over at her. "It must be difficult to work with someone you used to date."

What? Lyla laughed, in spite of herself. "Oh God no, Jeff? We've only ever been friends." It was an odd circle she'd stumbled into. Jeff and the GM both attended Vanderbilt, just at different times. She'd become close with both and they remembered her and trusted her when it came to hiring a new Director of Player Personnel. She was at the top of their respective lists. "Jeff is just not my type." Which was…well she wasn't sure what it was.

The other woman nodded a little, but wasn't convinced. Much like how she probably isn't convinced that I didn't purposefully try to break up her and Tim. She looked over at the phone to the side of her hand, which was buzzing. "Your phone is ringing," she murmured.

Lyla glanced at it and closed her eyes. Oh God. Of course. She picked it up, her voice quiet. "Tim, I'm at dinner with Melanie. I can't speak with you right now. You might want to call her." She hung up before she could even give him a second to say anything. She smiled apologetically. "I really…" The phone buzzed again. It was a text.

_I know you gave Billy a job. I know you did it to keep him from me. See you tomorrow but we're done._

Aw, shit, she thought. She bit her lower lip, looking over at Melanie, who was looking at her phone, as though waiting for it to go off and have it be Tim. She looked up when the waiter came over to take their order. "Yeah," she drawled, shaking her head again and passed up the large book. "I'll have the salmon and a bottle of Jack Daniels."


	8. The Sack

**8. The Sack**

"Lyla this place is just amazing, your father must be so proud of you!" Tami exclaimed, looping her arm through Lyla's and walking with her down the sidelines of the indoor practice field. They'd already visited the outdoor one, the weight room, the locker room, and the executive offices. Lyla wasn't sure what else there was, honestly, because most of it wasn't all that exciting, especially to her. She knew Tim and Coach about wet themselves over seeing the game film room and the inside of the actual practice arena.

Melanie had begged off from the tour, citing that she wanted to see some more of a couple old sorority sisters of hers who were in Dallas. That morning she'd told Lyla that she just didn't want to intrude, especially if Tim didn't think it important enough to tell her about Coach and Mrs. Taylor's importance to him.

That was a bad call, in Lyla's opinion, but at the same time, she thought, glancing at Tim, who wouldn't even look at her, she didn't need the tension that came with having Melanie upset at Tim and Tim upset at her all in the same room while she was trying to evade Mrs. Taylor's ever wandering emotional observations and answer Coach's constant litany of questions.

"You'll have to ask our coach that," she said, apologizing again for not having an answer to some of the practice questions. She shrugged at his narrow-eyed frown. "I'm a contracts girl. I keep tabs on what goes on down here, but actual practice regimens, I'm not entirely sure on." She shrugged again, smiling sheepishly at his continued scowl. "I'm sorry Coach, I just…I just don't really like football is all."

Tim drew a sharp intake of breath. Even Tami quickly closed her eyes like she was praying for her soul. Eric's eyebrows were almost in his hairline. "You don't like football?" he asked, punctuating each word with a slight pause of disbelief.

"Well," she said, attempting to backpedal. "It's not that I don't like it, it's just that I don't really follow it as intensely. It's not enjoyment; it's a job. Which I like." It didn't make sense to just about anyone, but it made sense to her. It worked for her. It was an odd away to think about things, but nevertheless, she thought about them that way. She glanced at Tim, who was just looking at her; he'd just been sullen with her, especially when Coach was nowhere nearby. She cleared her throat. "Why don't we all go up to the dining room? I've ordered lunch." She glanced over at Clinton, who was arriving right on time. "Clinton can show you both upstairs, I'll be there in a moment, I want to talk to Tim."

In private, she silently said, glancing at Coach and Tami again. Tami cleared her throat, nodding slightly to her, keeping her voice soft. "Alright. We'll see you upstairs in a few minutes."

Yes, a few minutes will be fine. She waited until they were out of earshot before she turned to look at Tim, cocking her hip and crossed her arms over her chest. She put her weight on her left leg, glaring at him. She began to tap her Louboutin on the turf and pursed her lips. Game face. "You're mad at me," she stated. A blind person could sense it.

Tim scoffed; he dusted the bottom of his boot heel on the turf, digging into it a bit. Groundskeeper would be pissed. "Mad? No, I'm not mad. I just…" he laughed, glaring at her again. He walked over to a rack of footballs, picking one up and tossed it back and forth. He turned to look at her again. "I should have known you wouldn't just give Billy a job."

Excuse me? She had no idea what his comment had meant last night, but she'd thought about it all day, especially when she saw how mad he was at her when he climbed out of the truck as she greeted them outside. He seriously was arrogant enough to believe that the only reason she might give his brother a job offer was to separate the two of them. "Do you think I'm stupid?" she snapped. Idiot. I want to smack him. She wasn't putting up with his bullshit. She was mad at him on behalf of Melanie. He was treating her like crap, just like he'd done with Tyra and with every other girl that wasn't her. He couldn't have what he wanted, so he used and hid away from the one he was with.

"Stupid?" he echoed.

"Stupid! I'm not stupid Tim, I'm not standing here wearing about five-thousand dollars worth of clothing in the Dallas Cowboys training facility and I just had my thirty-fourth birthday!" she snapped. She felt like bragging. Fuck it. I've earned it, she felt like shouting at him. She jabbed her hand into his shoulder, knocking at him and forcing him back before she slapped the backs of her hands against his chest again, beginning to walk him towards the locker room. "I'm one of the only female executives in your little macho man world of the fucking National Football League. I control America's Team, that's what the Cowboys call themselves right? Never mind they haven't won a Super Bowl in about fifteen years, Cleveland Browns won it before they did again, talk about fucking bad luck, huh?"

She laughed, almost cackled, feeling maniacal. Call it a breakdown, call it stress release, she was just pissed off at the world right now and she'd been holding a lot in for the last week. Hell, the last ten years she'd been holding a lot in. "But maybe that's because that one year during the draft they finally set it up, they finally got a guy in there that knew what he was doing, could have been a bust, could have been the worst mistakes in the history of football, but they weren't, so you know what? They won and I'm here because the Cowboys want to win again and they picked Lyla Garrity from Dillon, Texas, daughter of Buddy, the raging psychopath of Texas high school football that there ever was!"

"You've lost your mind," Tim said, managing to get a word in. He laughed a bit when she pushed him into the door to the locker room again. He leaned against it, his eyebrows lifting. "You done?"

"No!"

"What else do you have to say?"

"I have to say a lot Tim Riggins and you will shut up and listen to me!" she screamed, her voice echoing in the arena. She jabbed her finger into the center of his chest. I'm Lyla Garrity and I will not be controlled or handled. "I talked to Billy because I'm not stupid Tim! I'm not an idiot and I want a guy that is going to be able to find talent and Billy actually can see football talent, it's the only thing he's good at and I'm going to pay him to do it. Not under the table, not for a couple of years, for as long as he wants to work for me and as long as he can keep the fucking job!"

"You swearing is kind of hot right now."

"Shut up!" She pushed him into the locker room and slammed the door, knocking him into one of the cabinets. It was their quarterback's and she didn't care that stuff fell everywhere. She held her hands on Tim's shoulders, breathing deeply and staring straight at him. She waited a moment, blinking a couple of times as she felt the adrenaline course through her. Her voice softened. "Melanie is going to break up with you."

"I know. Because of you."

"Because of you," she retorted, letting go of him. She placed one hand in the small of her back, suddenly exhausted. Yelling at a person and having a bit of a breakdown could do that, she imagined. She lifted her fingertips to her lips and closed her eyes, murmuring. "Tim what you're doing to her isn't right. It's not fair."

"I'm sorry about it. I don't love her."

"You don't love me."

He waited a few seconds, his voice calling out quietly in the locker room, over the two narrow benches running through the center of the space. "You don't like Billy with me. Giving him a job isn't for him or you."

It really is for me, she thought, shaking her head, disagreeing. "I'm doing this for me, Tim. I want a scout I can trust and I can trust him." She smirked, not looking at him. She lifted her head slightly, staring straight into a mirror across the room, finding his reflection and meeting it with her gaze. "I can trust Billy on this, Tim, that's why. There's an added benefit that it keeps you out of trouble, but…but I know that the two of you are like magnets. You're brothers and you're all each other has. I know that. I thought about it. Separating you guys. It can be done. You'll be fine."

That's why you're terrified, she realized suddenly, his face flickering a little. It immediately went back to stony and serious. You don't want him to leave you. If he leaves you and Melanie breaks up with you…you would be alone in Dillon. Your favorite place in the world and no one to share it with. She closed her mouth and swallowed, shaking her head slightly. "Billy still has to make a decision, Tim. It's okay if he makes it for himself. He can do that, you know. It's his life."

"And your life brings you back to Texas."

"To Texas." She waited a second. "Not you."

Tim walked over to stand behind her. "Lyla."

Don't you dare do it, she threatened silently. "I've got a career," she laughed, her face breaking slightly. "And I'm trying to do big things here Tim. I'm trying to make a name and…and do something and…and I can't have distractions and you're a distraction and I've already gone too far and please don't…"

I'm a weak woman, she thought, as he turned her around and pushed her up against the wall, kissing her softly. I want this to be like a movie, she kind of thought, her arms wrapping around his shoulders. She kissed him back, almost smiling against his mouth, because she could feel him smiling back. He broke away first and laughed a little. His eyes danced; why are you so happy, she wondered, narrowing hers on his. "You're incredible," he whispered.

I know. Why are you saying it? "I know," she said.

"You did all this. I love you and…and I'm not going to take away from it." He let go of her and took a giant step backwards. She screwed up her gaze on him. He was grinning like a complete moron. "I'm taking myself out. Again. Do big things Garrity. When you're ready to trade, give me a call. You get the first round pick over the others."

Why thank you for putting it in words I understand, she felt like sarcastically saying, but she kept her mouth firmly shut. She followed him towards the door with her gaze before she called out. "What are you doing to do about Melanie?"

"She's not interested in what I have to give," Tim said quietly. He looked over his shoulder at her and waited another moment. "Besides. I can wait. I've done it so far." He pulled open the door and walked out, whistling to himself.

Son of a bitch, she thought, slumping down the wall. She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. Holy shit. What just happened? Did Tim seriously just tell her he'd wait for her? That was not at all what she wanted. She dropped her hands to the sides, shaking her head. Oh my God.

Her eyes looked up at the ceiling and she narrowed her eyes on the stars painted here and there. "We have got to get a new icon," she mumbled. She'd make a note of it for a meeting with the owner. Owner…oh man. She jumped up to her feet and hurried out of the locker room, catching up with everyone in the atrium, where Clinton was explaining the history of the building. He lapped up this shit. "Tim, can I talk to you for a second…" she grabbed his arm and led him away, turning around and staring up at him. This could backfire. "Look, I was thinking um, I think I have a way where you can let Melanie down kind of easy."

"Why do you care?" he asked.

"Because I feel responsible." I am responsible. If I hadn't come back, but…no time to think of that. Melanie and Tim's problems had been festering for six months and were going to blow up eventually if he never told her the truth about his life. She bit her lower lip, her voice quiet. Matchmaker, matchmaker. "I think I can get Melanie everything that she wants."

Tim squinted. "I'm listening."

Lyla grinned, looping her arm through his. "We'll discuss after lunch." She walked over towards Coach and Tami, who were frowning at them both. I know, the dynamic is radically different. It's amazing what one kiss could diffuse. She looked back up at him. "You know Tim, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

"We've always been friends." He said that so seriously she thought he was being sarcastic, until she smiled softly. He was right. They were always friends. They just never really acted on it these last few years. Tim let go of her and followed Coach upstairs with Clinton, leaving Tami with her.

Oh great. I know that look. "Mrs. Taylor," she said, walking up the stairs beside her. "Did you enjoy all this?"

"I really did, it's quite interesting, but I'm not really here to look at where an overpaid, overinflated football team trains." She patted Lyla's wrist, her arm linked around hers. "Nothing against you sweetheart."

"No offense taken, I hate football." She'd said that twice now. Her dirty secret was going to make it to the press. People would find out eventually, but not right now. She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "So why are you here?"

"To see you. See how well you've done. Your father talks about you endlessly when he has his random chats with Coach." Tami sighed, shaking her head a little. "I know he wants us back in Dillon, but we're in Philly for the long haul. Coach likes the football team he has, he doesn't want to leave them and I don't want to leave my job either."

No, it's not always about the guy, she thought. She knew that better than just about anyone. She smiled slightly at Tami, pausing at the top of the staircase to the executive office level. She turned a little, gazing out the large windows at the front of the building. It was a nice day out today. Beautiful day for football. Training camp would start in a couple of months, minicamps were going on during the week…things were getting serious now. She looked back at Tami. "If you're worried I'm going to give this all up for Tim, you're wrong," she said. She smirked a little. "And if you think I'm giving it up for Vince, well I'm not with him. He's a friend. I don't have time for a guy right now."

"And I believe it," Tami said. She smiled warmly. Motherly. It was more motherliness than she'd received from her own mother in years. She reached out, rubbing her upper arm slightly, keeping her voice soft. "Sweetheart you can be incredibly successful in your career, but you need a life outside of it. Your longest relationship can't be with your assistant or with the quarterback who is just a friend. I'm not saying you need a guy. Quite the contrary. Live a little. Have some fun. It's only football."

It's only football, she thought, looking back out the window as Tami walked away, going to join Tim and Coach. Yeah. That was the grand irony in all this. It was only football, but it was also her career. Her life at the moment. Lyla sighed, shaking her head and looking up at the ceiling. Things were changing. She turned around, going to join everyone in the large dining area that they had for executive lunch meetings.

After she made a few texts, she settled in to listen to Coach and Tami share photos and talk about their grandchildren, a set of twins born to Matt and Julie a couple of years ago. She also asked about Gracie, who was in a business program at University of Pennsylvania. Ivy League. Business. "Any interest in sports management?" she tested.

"No," was all Coach and Tami said at the same time. Fine, I could always try, she thought, shrugging.

She looked up when the door opened, Jeff entering the room. "Jeff! So good to see you, why don't I introduce you to some friends of mine…" At the same time, Clinton led Melanie in through another door, Tim shoving his phone back into his pocket. He winked at her and then looked over at Melanie, who wouldn't meet his eyes.

I always get my way, Lyla thought, gesturing towards Melanie. "Jeff, you remember Melanie McKinley?"

"Of course!" Jeff exclaimed, stepping over to her again and flashing his surfer smile. "So nice to see you again. It was only last night and I could never forget such a pretty face."

Melanie cleared her throat, smiling awkwardly. She glanced at Tim, but then shook Jeff's hand. "Yes. Nice to meet you again. Are you joining us for lunch?"

"Well if no one minds."

"No one minds," Tim said, running his tongue over his teeth obviously. He nodded towards the door. "Can I steal Melanie for a second?" He led her outside, walking down the hall together.

Lyla sat back down, with Jeff taking a seat beside her and beginning to talk football with Coach, who seemed less starstruck than she imagined he'd be. He probably could see right through Jeff's privileged bullshit. She glanced at her phone, while Tami drew up more pictures of the twins for her viewing. She bit into a bite of her salad, purusing the texts she'd received over the past couple of hours.

One in particular stood out to her. _It's Vince. Mom's going to need to go back to rehab, so I'll be spending more time in Texas. I'm going to crash at your house, the facility is in Dallas. _

Shit, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. Poor Vince. She bit her lip and sent a text to Jess. _Vince's mom is not in the best place. I think you're right, we should table this. I apologize for intruding in your life. All the best and any time you want a tour or a meeting with me, just call._

The door opened again, Tim and Melanie coming back into the room. Melanie didn't say anything to her and walked around the side of the table to sit next to Jeff. After several minutes, the two of them were leaving together. Tim glanced at her and took a bite of steak. He bit down on his fork, smiling a little around it. "She'll be okay."

Yeah, well, at least one of us will be, Lyla thought, unable to get Vince out of her head.


	9. The Kick Return

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews :) Hope people keep enjoying.

* * *

**9. The Kick Return**

It's empty.

Tim wandered from his living room into the room he considered a study, looked around a few times and then left, going into the kitchen again. He sighed, picking up a keychain of Melanie's. He felt really bad about how that all happened. He really thought they were serious, but…but she was right. They'd gone into the hallway after Lyla had dropped that little suggestion about setting her up with Jeff Ellison, a billionaire who really had had about every flavor of woman available.

Someone who liked fancy things, who liked spending money on anything, and traveling and all that. Someone not like him, but more like Melanie. Someone who would do well to have a nice woman at his side who had her life teaching, but who would still dress up in a fancy outfit to attend some benefit, which she would actually enjoy planning. I hope it works out for them, he thought, walking into the living room again. It made him still feel bad. That he had to break up with her, but…but Lyla was right. Tyra had been right all along, big shock. He wasn't in it for the long haul; Melanie was.

Which was why he'd been surprised when she had spoken first, telling him that she wasn't interested in being someone else for him. She wanted to live her life and enjoy it, not stick around to make him feel okay at the expense of herself. Good for her, he'd thought. He had quietly agreed with her and told her he was truly sorry, that he did care for her, but…

_"But you're in love with someone else."_

Yes. He was still in love with Lyla, try as he could to get rid of her. He sat back in his chair, turning on the television. He had ESPN on last night and it was pretty much nothing but trade rumors with the Miami Dolphins and a guy that he thought he might know by the name of Smash Williams. He leaned forward a little, seeing Smash's official picture superimposed over the Cowboy's logo. They were talking about how the noise was growing louder over their desire to pick up the running back, since they couldn't get the ones they originally wanted in the draft.

I wonder if Lyla did that on purpose, he thought. Just as he thought it, the sportscaster said that it may have been set up that way by the GM so that their VP could get involved, mess around, and drop a couple of low-hanging fruit on the Dolphins to get them to give Williams away. "Interesting," Tim mumbled, as they started talking about the picks Lyla was threatening to give up to get him.

He reached for his phone, dialing her direct line. Clinton picked up. He seemed an okay guy. Probably would kill for Garrity and bury the body if need be, so Tim made sure to stay on his good side. "Player Personnel VP," Clinton said upon answering.

"It's Riggins, can I talk to Lyla?"

"Hold." Without even a please, Clinton hit a button, sending him into silence. Tim sighed, still watching the TV, until Clinton picked up. "Go for Ms. Garrity."

There was a beep and Lyla answered. "What's going on, I'm having a crazy day and Vince is staying with me, so I didn't get a good night's sleep."

Whoa. His eyebrows arched. "You want to reword that or…" he frowned slightly. Maybe they really were…no, no way. They'd been through this. It had been a couple of weeks since that lunch and Melanie's departure. They hadn't talked at all. He cleared his throat. "Never mind, forget it."

Her voice softened, realizing what he'd originally thought, but she didn't joke about it. Must be serious. "Vince is staying with me while Regina is in rehab. Her facility is in Arlington, but he can't see her yet. Not until next week. He'll be with me until he can take care of her and then…" she trailed off, murmuring. "I'm trying to get him here. He can't take her to Oakland and…and his only other option is to leave the NFL."

No way could he do that. Vince was one of the best quarterbacks in the NFL. He hadn't made it to franchise-level of notoriety yet because he wasn't the franchise quarterback that Oakland wanted. He would be much better in Dallas. Hometown boy or something, it'd work better there than it did in Oakland, where he wasn't happy and was too far from his mother. "There's gotta' be another way," he said softly. It couldn't just be leave the NFL.

"Vince is bound by contract to Oakland, I can't get him. Once he's a free agent next year he can come here, but he's worried Regina isn't going to be able to hold out for a year…" she trailed off, groaning. There was squeaking in the background; probably her chair when she fell back against it. "What's going on in Dillon? How are you?"

"I'm fine. You're on TV."

She chuckled. "You can't call me whenever I'm on TV. Besides, it'll go away soon enough, I'm still a novelty. It feels like two months, but it's only been two weeks." Her voice was soft again. Like the old Lyla. He'd noticed that in press conferences and on television, she would forcefully deepen it. It didn't sound like her at all. He frowned a little, watching her on TV giving a statement regarding the affiliation with Vince and the Dallas Cowboys, including herself.

"Why do you change your voice?" he murmured.

"Hmm?"

"Your voice. You change it on TV. Why do you do that? You sound fine."

There was a slight pause before she answered, her voice deep again. Hollow-sounding, because it wasn't natural. "I don't like sounding like a high-pitched little girl. An idiot. A cheerleader. They already think that of me. I can show them how intelligent I am, they won't care. It's the least I can do to sound important and serious. People who know me know the difference, but Joe Schmo in his living room in Nebraska doesn't. I prefer it that way."

"But it isn't you."

"Did you call for a reason?" she asked, slightly exasperated now. She dropped something with a clang. "I have a lot of work to do Tim."

No real reason. He made one up because he didn't think she'd care for that response. "I just was calling…well I was watching the TV and they were talking all about the trades and stuff for Smash and I just…" I sound like a total moron. He closed his eyes, mumbling. "I just thought that it was kind of cool. Didn't think of all the…the smarts this was about."

Are you still there? Lyla coughed a few times, just when he was about to hang up. "Yes…um, yes there's…smarts."

"You're really good at it."

She laughed nervously. "Tim…I've been at this for two weeks, I mean…I'm really not that good. I don't even know if I'm doing anything correctly. It's just meetings and contracts and…and I was good in Oakland because I just reviewed contracts nonstop. This is the actual bartering and…and you know me and football…"

"You don't hate it, stop saying you hate it."

"I don't hate it," she sighed. I knew you never hated it, Tim thought. She just saidt hat sometimes. Even repeated it a couple of times in high school. Someone who came from her bloodline and was a cheerleader and dated football players…someone who just got sucked into everything, all the events and the hoopla and stuff, she didn't hate football. Lyla groaned again. "Tim I don't hate football, I just dislike what it's done to some of the people in my life. I dislike the seedier side of it which is a lot of what I see on a daily basis, but for someone in my line of work?" She chuckled. "I don't hate it. God. You should have see the faces of some of the guys I had to meet with this morning when I started talking about Marcus Allen's cutback against the Redskins in 1984…I mean, I wasn't even born yet and was talking about a Super Bowl moment. You'd think that they'd all had simultaneous strokes."

Good for you. Lyla Garrity was not an idiot; she could learn things faster than anyone he'd ever met. Football history, how to fix a car engine, or Crash Bandicoot racing on Play Station, Lyla Garrity took only minutes to figure it out. She also practiced. Knowing her, she'd grown up with flashcards on famous plays and players and moments in football. Mostly to please Buddy, but probably even to get Jason to look at her. He never cared much for that stuff, but now look how it was ending up for her. "You like your job," he said.

"I love my job. Don't know if I'm doing it right, but I love it. I'm just trying Tim. I'm trying to make a name for myself and if that takes another thirty years than so be it." She paused. "And I'm sorry for that."

The deal, he figured. The waiting for her. I'll wait for you, he thought briefly. He didn't want to wait for her. It just depended. "I'll move to Dallas," he whispered. He could rent the house. Let Tyra and Landry live there for awhile so they could get out of Landry's cramped apartment in what constituted 'downtown' Dillon. Even though Tyra mostly just commuted from Austin. He closed his eyes; it would be hard, he loved his house. More than anything, but…with no one there, did that matter?

Don't pity me Garrity, he thought, as she chuckled softly. "Oh Tim. I can't ask you to do that and…and besides, even if you really wanted to move to Dillon, that is…please don't take this the wrong way, but that's the last thing I need right now I just…you're just off a breakup, no matter how necessary it was. Why don't you just go out with Billy or Luke or someone? Just enjoy your house and your land and…and know that I'll be here if you need me, but I'm sorry, I have to get to a meeting."

He focused on the TV again. I know. All she was doing was talking about what he already knew. It was too soon. Give it time Riggins, he thought, looking back at the television. "Does Vince need anything?" he asked, soft. Vince was doing this alone. He didn't have brothers or sisters and the friends he had were mostly in Dillon or weren't close enough to drop everything to help him with his mother. Tim didn't know much about that situation, he didn't even know Vince that well, but…well hell, if the guy was close with Garrity, then he'll be close with me now.

"I don't want to get into Vince's life, that's his private business. I don't think he does, but you can talk to him to make sure. He's at my apartment now, if you want to call there." She gave him the number, but he didn't write it down. He wasn't going to call her apartment to talk to Vince. He'd just go visit in a few days or so. He could get Vince's private number, which she wouldn't give him, from Luke.

He smiled again when he saw her face on the screen once more. 'The Reinvention of America's Team' was the scroll at the bottom. "You realize that you, the VP, are more of a name and face than the actual GM? Isn't it supposed to be different?"

"Ryan Ellison is Jeff Ellison's cousin. It's a family business for them. Because he keeps a lot profile and he's really only doing this because his father wants it, he doesn't make a good public image. Someone in public relations decided that would be me. I don't like it, but I'll do it. If little girls who love football look at me on the TV and think they can do that, then I'm happy for it." She sighed ahrd. "It's only because I'm pretty. I hate it. I'd rather show my brain."

"Than anything else?" he teased.

"I'm the Texas Tyrant. Not Dallas Barbie, which caught on for a few minutes in Oakland."

"You're not from Dallas."

"Tell that to the media, they make up what they want to fit their story." She sighed hard again. "I have to go. Goodbye."

"Bye." Tim hung up, watching the TV for a few more minutes. He picked up his phone and scrolled to a contact, lifting it to his phone as he kept his eyes on the screen. It was a sixty-inch flatscreen he'd saved up a ton for. He was practically in love with the thing. "Hey Becks."

"What's up?"

"Need a favor."

"Sure thing."

"Are you still friends with Jess Meriweather? That's her name, right? The one that Vince dated?" How did he remember this shit? I've been hanging with Becky too much.

Becky coughed several times. "Tim I'm not going to give you her number, you just broke up and going back to girls that maybe said hello to you…"

"What?! No! I want to talk to her about something, just send me the number." He paused. "What's Luke doing?"

"He's doing the dishes right now."

"Pussywhipped."

"That's what you say. I say a good husband who might get laid tonight." He could hear Luke's 'Yes!' in the background. He rolled his eyes; I don't want to hear that. Becky chuckled. "You talk to Billy?"

I might get out there in a few minutes. Tim stood up, turning the TV off and collected his keys, pressing the phone against his ear as he walked out to his truck. He hoisted himself up into the cab, turning the engine over and backed out, speaking quietly. "Billy won't talk, but I'm on my way to see him. You want to come over for dinner?"

"Maybe. Do you want to watch my kid?"

"Drop her off later." Which meant that she and Luke would be running right back to their house for some alone time, but whatever. Tim liked Little Cafferty, who was better known to her parents as Molly. She was an absolute doll, which meant he got to indulge in his feminine side a bit, not that that was always a bad thing. Plus she liked to read and had a crazy imagination, so she was fun to hang around with. You never knew what kind of stories were going to come from her. "I'm going to the football field, gotta' talk to Billy, but yeah, drop her off around six or something."

"Will do."

He hung up, heading out of his area and beyond Buddy's house; he could stop by, since he saw his Suburban in the driveway, but then he recognized Angela Collette's red Sunfire and thought better of it. He stopped at a red light in town, sending a fast text to Tyra that her mom was back with him. 'Gross' was the only response he got. He could tell Lyla, just to get her reaction, but thought better of it. She was busy. He couldn't bug her with silly stuff like this.

At the fieldhouse, he found Billy sitting on the bleachers, watching practice. "Why aren't you down here?" he asked, hopping up a couple of of benches to join his brother. He pointed towards their one receiver. "Kid's got fast feet. That one's going places."

Billy shook his head slightly; he was quiet, which was unusual. "No, he's too fast. He panics. Watch what happens when there's pressure." Defense put pressure on him and sure enough, the guy panicked and gave up the ball. He dropped his hands to his knees, shaking his head in disappointment. "We've been trying to get him to stop that for three years. He won't stop now, he isn't going to stop when he goes to college and forget anything beyond maybe a redshirt freshman year." He glanced sideways. "What?"

You know football. I mean, I always knew it, but…there had to be something there that Garrity saw. If she was good enough for them to hire her and…and all those complicated deals she made all the time and stuff…he swallowed hard, staring at the field. "Garrity wants you for her team."

Billy nodded, tilting his head downward slightly. He shook it from side to side, just twice in each direction. He draped his arms over his knees. "I'm not taking the job, Tim."

What the hell? He shot his brother a sideways look. You're an idiot. Billy wouldn't look at him; he was too focused on the football game. "Why the hell not?" he finally demanded. He didn't give Billy a chance to answer. "You're an idiot if you don't. I thought you were dumb, but not stupid. Well that too sometimes, but Billy! This isn't those other times you know? This isn't chop shops or copper wire or that time you were going to have a limo business and when you went on the road with Landry's band!" Billy said nothing, still looking at the field. Tim didn't care. He shook his head again, rolling his eyes. "You give this up and you're really as stupid as I thought you always were."

"I'm not stupid! Mindy doesn't want to move to Dallas, she has a support system here for ht ekids."

"The kids are in high school!" Tim shouted. Stevie would be going to college. He shook his head again, throwing his hands sideways. "You're gonna' let her decide this?"

"She's my wife!"

"And she can stay here! You ever think of that Billy?" He couldn't believe this. Stupid, just stupid. All the money and the benefits that could come from it. Way more than Dillon High School. He shook his head again, his voice quiet. "Billy you could be making decisions on players for NFL teams, you know? You're scouting colleges, your'e traveling and stuff. The kids are going to be out of school. They're barely home anyway."

"Well…" Billy began to stammer. He was making excuses. "What about Garrity, you know? I don't need that controlling me as my boss."

"You'd be a starting scout, you don't answer directly to her, you have another boss."

"I don't do well with bosses."

Now you're just being an asshole. He rolled his eyes, hopping off the bleachers. He walked back and forth for a moment before he looked back at up at Billy, who was watching him. He took a deep breath; only had one chance to say this. "You know if this is about me…don't let it. This is your chance Billy. You can have it. Just take it." He turned away, leaving his brother. If he was going to babysit Molly Cafferty that evening, he'd need to stop at the store to buy kid food.

I hope like hell he makes the right decision. This couldn't be about him. It had to be about Billy. He went to the store, got a bunch of stuff, and was in the process of cleaning up a little at the house for Molly's visit when his phone went off. Text from Garrity.

_Billy accepted. Thank you._

That's all he needed, Tim thought, shoving the phone aside. He walked over to the front door at the doorbell, throwing it open and grinning down at one of his favorite kids in the whole wide world. "My girl!" he exclaimed, throwing Molly up into the air. The five-year old giggle, resting her cheek against his. "You want to have fun tonight? Whatcha' got there?"

"Makeup, we're gonna' get makeovers," Molly said, kissing his forehead. She held the pastel colored box against her, glitter on her eyelids and cheeks. She turned to Becky, who was setting aside a couple of her bags. "Momma said we get a sleepover."

A sleepover? He turned his head to Becky. Excuse me? She shrugged. "I need a night with my husband. She'll be fine here, won't you baby? Momma loves you, have fun with Uncle Tim."

Tim sighed, watching Becky run out of the house and practically fly off the porch. "Must have been awhile," he drawled, closing the door behind him. He set Molly on the floor, where she gathered up her little makeup case and a bag overflowing with Barbies. Well this might be fun. "So what do you want to do first?" he asked, following her into the living room, where she started setting up.

Molly dumped the case on the floor, little compacts and lipsticks and brushes going everywhere. "Where's Melanie?" she asked, blinking up innocently at him.

Ah…how did he explain this to a kid? He took a deep breath. Truth. "Melanie's gone. We broke up, we're not going to see each other anymore." She's with a guy that can give her what she wants. He looked down at her t-shirt. It was Dallas Cowboys. "Since when are you a Cowboys fan?" he asked.

"Since always," Molly chirped, removing a brush and a compact, beginning to swish it on his cheeks. He always made sure he never had to meet anyone when he had nights with Molly because this was bound to happen. She shrugged her shoulders. "Mommy said that I can be just like someone named Lyla. I can have my own football team."

Oh yeah, he thought, grinning. That made his heart swell a little. "You can be anything you want to be."

"I want to own a football team like Lyla." She shrugged again. "I don't know who she is, but I want it. Momma said I can have it."

"And you can have anything. You gotta' work for it." That was the hard part sometimes. He thought of Billy. Rarely ever wanted to work for anything. Now he was panicking because the one thing he was good at…he didn't actually have to work for it. He was going to have to do a good job once he started, but he'd be fine, once he got over his panic. Pretty funny, in the grand scheme of things. Ironic and funny with me too, he thought, looking around his house. He smiled down at Molly. "What else do you want to do?"

"We're going to be pirates," she began, delving into an incredibly detailed story with their characters and everything. Once she was done, she jumped up and ran to her bags to get their costumes.

Tim got up, leaving Molly for a moment and going to stand in the doorway looking out over his land. He shoved his hands into his pockets, smiling slightly. It would be okay. It'd all work out. He tossed his hair from his eyes; he needed a haircut. He glanced down at Molly, who had appeared at his side. "What?"

She held up a pirate hat and an old-fashioned egg-beater. "Your hat and hook."

"Oh, well okay then." He went back into the house to play with her. After a couple of hours, he had a few pictures for Becky, which she always wanted when Molly was in a mood to be dramatic. He knew it wasn't for any other reason than a scrapbook; Becky had no intentions of becoming a pageant mom like hers was. He had one picture, of him in a pirate outfit, his red coat an old red robe and sent it to Lyla.

A few seconds later she returned with. _You're not a Raider. Show me one of you as a Cowboy and we'll talk mascot jobs._

"Hey Molly?" he called, setting the phone down. He grinned at her as she walked into the kitchen, expectant, her little dark curls ringing her face like a picture frame. "Do you have any cowboy outfits? Let's play that next."


	10. The Backfield

**A/N:**Thanks for the reviews! Here's a new POV with a couple new characters thrown in :) Enjoy!

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**10. The Backfield**

I hate this place, Vince thought, passing his visitor badge to the woman at the administration desk. He smiled politely at her as she passed him the clipboard for him to sign out. "Thank you," he said, setting the pen on top of it as he passed it back to her. She smiled back at him, obviously fighting an urge to ask him for his autograph or a photo. He smiled again, but it faltered slightly, his voice soft. "I appreciate it."

Hopefully she understood he meant that he appreciated her discretion. He put his Ray-Bans on, shielding against the sunlight. Texas and California. They were always so damn bright. Sometimes he wished his agent would start asking New England or New York if they were interested. Hell, there were times when he was tempted to ask if he could go to Cleveland or Chicago. Both those cities would take him in a heartbeat. Of course, Cleveland had their big name quarterback and so did Chicago. They just wouldn't mind adding a second to the list.

He stopped at the curb, looking back at the two-story facility. They were all pretty much the same. All had names like 'Country Grove' and 'Shady Oaks.' This one was called 'Hollow Glen.' "Why do people always think the forest is comforting?" he mumbled to himself, hopping off the curb and walking across the parking lot to his Range Rover. He stopped at the side, glaring at the dent and paint scratch on the door. He looked at the car beside his; same shade and everything.

Asshole, he thought, walking around to the side of it. He studied the car for a moment and reached into his pocket, removing a receipt from the Starbucks he'd grabbed for himself while waiting on the visiting hours to begin. He wrote a quick note and then glanced around. With no one looking, he slipped one of his keys into the lock on the side of the car door, jiggling a moment. It flicked up and he smiled; still had it. He opened the door, ignoring the alarm and dropped the note on the dashboard. That ought to show them.

"Reenacting your youth?"

Holy shit. He spun around, eyes wide, staring straight at the voice he hadn't heard in forever. "Ah…" he trailed off, blinking a few times. He cleared his throat, acting nonchalant. "Well no one was around so, you know."

Jess cocked her head, smiling slightly at him. "What if you got caught? What were you going to tell the media?"

"The stress of my mother's rehab stay made me do it," he said; it wasn't so much a joke as the truth. He'd been stressed these last few weeks. Regina had been trying so hard and seeing her break down in there earlier, apologizing for keeping him from practices and always being a burden just made him angrier. Not at her, but…at the frustration of it all that she had this disease and there was no cure or way to stop her pain.

What in the hell though, he thought, forgetting that he'd just broken into a car to leave a note politely informing the individual that they'd opened their car door on his Range Rover. He hadn't signed it and no one knew his mother was there and even so, people in Texas didn't necessarily recognize him at first glance. He went from Dillon High School, a 5A district to Vanderbilt for a year where he didn't even play his first season before going to Auburn to play his final two as a starter. Finalist for the Heisman his final year but he didn't win it and then off he went in the second round of the draft to Oakland where he'd become the big guy on campus.

He didn't think of that right now; what people were thinking of him if they recognized him. Right now he was focused on the woman standing in front of him wearing a black polo shirt and khakis, the polo with some sort of strange animal on it and 'Hawken Preparatory School Football.' Beneath the animal it said 'Offensive Coach.' He nodded towards her shirt. "What's that?"

She glanced down at the seal, shrugging and then crossed her arms again. She flexed her left hand and he noticed a tan line on her left ring finger. Interesting, he thought, glancing back at her again. "That's a griffin."

"What's a griffin?"

"Mythological beast. Half eagle, half lion."

"Oh. Cool." He crossed his arms over his chest, staring at her for a moment. "What the hell?" he finally said. He leaned against the car. He shook his head, disbelieving. "What are you doing here? How are you here? How did you know that I was here?!"

Jess sighed, her hands going to her hips. She cocked her head slightly, her ponytail bouncing a little over the back strap of her visor. "I was at school, minding my own business, when my phone rang and it was a mutual friend. Well, not even really a friend, just someone who is very close with someone I occasionally still keep in touch with. Basically Vince it was the Dillon grapevine. Anyway, they told me that you were usually here visiting your mother. I took a shot." She bit her lower lip hard, frowning up at him. He hated that look. Always made him feel like he did something wrong. "I'm sorry Regina is sick again."

It's a disease. It's not her fault, he thought, shaking his head a little. "She'll be alright," he said, quiet. He looked down at the parking lot asphalt. It was a fancy rehab hospital. Regina could only take certain ones, others just…agitated her more. He looked up at the sky when he was done staring at his shoes and then finally looked at her again. So this was awkward and there could only be a few people who knew her to send her here. "Did Lyla call you?" he demanded.

Jess hesitated, but shook her head negatively. He didn't believe her. I'm going to kill that woman, he vowed. Lyla Garrity had been nothing but trouble since he stupidly asked her where she grew up, trying to make awkward small talk while he waited on the Vanderbilt quarterbacks coach to finish a phone call and Lyla was putting together press packets. _"So where are you from?" _he'd stupidly wondered.

_"Little town in West Texas, you probably don't know it. Not many do."_

_"Try me. I'm from a little town in West Texas too."_

_"Dillon."_

_"East or West?"_

_"What's it matter?" _

_"I'm from East Dillon. What remains of it, anyways. Small world, huh? So that must mean you're related to Buddy Garrity. I heard his daughter went to Vanderbilt, didn't know you were into football either." _So that had started a pretty random and odd friendship between the two of them at Vanderbilt, until he got to Oakland, where there she was, passing him a contract as an intern in the legal department.

And now that friendship was going to end, as I end her, he thought. He glanced at Jess again. "I told her not to talk to you, I knew she ahd it in her head, but didn't think she'd do it."

"I'm not talking about how I found out you were here, but I am here if you…" she trailed off, shaking her head again and frowning deeper. "Vince I'm so sorry about your mother. If you need anything I live in Arlington, I mean I could just drive by and…"

"No," he said, his voice firm. They'd ended things when she'd gone to Dallas, after Ray hit it big. There were Ray's Barbeques and Buddy's Bars all over Texas nowadays because of it. He shook his head again. "Jess it's just easier for her if all things of the past are gone. She's done with that now, it's the future she's terrified of living. Let it all go."

Jess nodded, understanding. She glanced back up again, her voice soft. "You don't call, you don't write…you're the one that decided to end this stuff."

"Because you moved to Dallas and we were in high school. High school is meaningless." He opened up the door to his Range Rover, effectively silencing her. He climbed up into it and slammed he door, finally pushing his glasses up a little so she could look him straight in the eye. He sighed, sad. This was just…he couldn't believe this. Someone was up to no good and her name was Lyla Garrity. "Jess why don't you just go back to your prep school? I don't need you."

Jess glared at him and cocked her hands on her hip. "Excuse me?" she demanded.

"I said, I don't need you. You have a life. Go live it, leave me alone. It's just me and Mom and that's all it's going to be, I don't need anyone else, so go away." He rolled up the window and ignored her stunned look, backing out of the parking spot and leaving the rehab hospital. He kept his emotions in check, using the breathing techniques he used to calm himself before he released the ball or took off running. He turned on the radio, listened to a bit of music, and then switched to Sports Talk radio.

_"So what are these rumors we're hearing circulating out of Miami Cliff? Well if I know rumors and Miami, I'd say it has something to do with the potential signing of Smash Williams, a free agent, with the Dallas Cowboys."_

_"You know Cliff this is something that could be dangerous for anyone going up against Dallas if Williams decides to sign with them, you know Dallas has been in a rut now for about fifteen years, they haven't gone to the Super Bowl, they've barely made playoffs and then lost those games in the first round, they can't hold quarterbacks, I mean it's a bad symbol when the team that calls itself America's Team and represents Texas football can't get itself out of the gutter! Their quarterback is on his last legs, he's 36, he's had two foot surgeries, three knee surgeries, and shoulder surgery, I mean we've got a geriatric throwing the ball, he's better at the running game, believe it or not, and yet he's got no running backs!"_

_"Dallas tried to invigorate some life, you know the Ellison family owns that team, they're really big with the running of it, Old Man Ellison gave his son a billion dollars so he bought the Cowboys is the joke around town, you got Jeff Ellison the owner who is pretty much whatever with the management, he just likes the flash and bang, and then you have his little brother Ryan, the General Manager, who likes football he's much better as a coach, honestly, and you have the coach, Tyler Michaels, who just runs his ship and does what the GM tells him to do, I mean they hire probably the most competent woman in professional sports to take everyone by the ping pongs as my father used to say and drag Dallas back into the forefront of the NFL!"_

_"You're talking there about Lyla Garrity, the darling of Texas high school football, where that is more important than professional sports, hell it's more important than breathing down there in Texas, I mean they empty the town for those games, she was all involved in that, she's never left football her whole life, and she's got a brain, Ellison was smart to hire her to bail out the sinking ship, but can it be done?"_

_"Well she knows Williams from high school, talk about a small town, you know they call that coach down there, he's a coach for a local Philadelphia high school, they call him the Kingmaker, this guy, this…this Coach Eric Taylor, he coached Smash Williams, he coached Jason Street who is probably on eof the better sports agents out there and was on track to becoming a star before he tragically broke his spine in football, and he coached Vince Howard of the Oakland Raiders. Let me tell you, if Garrity works the phones and the contracts and the deals like we know she is capable of doing, if she gets Williams on board and she can convince Howard to come over after his contract is up with Oakland, well hell, Dallas is on its way to a Super Bowl. She's done the right thing and she's assembled the defense, she's assembled the offensive line to protect her weak quarterback right now, and you know what? This woman is just the VP of Administration. We're talking about her like she's a GM, am I right?"_

"Because she is the GM," Vince said to the radio. No one seemed to get that. Ryan Ellison had one foot out the door ever since his father put him in charge of the Cowboys. The GM was supposed to be the most powerful person. Him and the coach, but for the Cowboys, it was Lyla Garrity.

He flicked off the radio, not wanting to hear anymore of it, but his stomach was flipping. A chance to play with Smash Williams. That would be amazing. He'd heard stories, but he'd never met the man, even in his five years with the NFL. He tried not to think about how great that would be, or how much Lyla would be known for putting together two star performers, and pulled into the parking lot beside her Audi. Good, she was home, he thought, climbing out of the car.

He marched inside, ignoring one of the assistants at the front desk, jabbing the button for upstairs. The elevator dinged as it stopped on the floor and he marched out, hurrying down to her office and beyond Clinton, her pitbull, who was flying out of his seat and trying to tackle him to get him to stop.

"What in the hell do you think you are doing" he demanded, throwing open the glass door to Lyla's office. He stopped, staring at her as she looked guilty, sitting across from someone who was on her couch, a paper in his hands. He blinked a few times. "Smash Williams," he said. He looked at Lyla, who was getting out of her chair, walking over to close the door, which Clinton had open. He looked at her, following her back to her seat .

Lyla had a few different personas. Right now she was in full business mode. Get the client, that was her mode right now, and she was not in the mood to be friendly. "Vince Howard, have you met Smash Williams, running back for the Miami Dolphins?"

"Ah no, can't say I have."

Smash stood up, grinning wide and shaking his hand, a giant silver and diamond Cartier watch jingling on his wrist. "Good to meet you man, I've seen you play, you got some skills. You got some Coach Eric Taylor skills, I recognize that throwing style anywhere. Same as Jason Street. Can't believe we haven't met yet baby, I mean we got th same agent and here I hear we're gonna' be playing for the same team, am I right there Lyla?"

Lyla smiled tightly, a muscle ticking her jaw. "Just sign the contract there Smash," she purred, tapping the final page with a claw-like red nail. "Before your agent tells you that I just screwed you with your pants on."

"Well if it's by you then I might as well just sign now, right baby?" he laughed, reaching over and taking a diamond pen from where it was sitting on the sheaf of papers. He made a move to sign and then set it down, twisting the cap. Vince watched the light in Lyla's eyes fade in disappointment. "Naw, I don't trust you Lyla. Never did, never will, you're a shark as my Momma said."

"Mrs. Williams was very kind at the tea we had the other day," Lyla said, looking back up at him, innocent. She cleared her throat, reaching to fiddle with her Vanderbilt class ring. "You know Smash I told her that the weather here is just much better than Miami and you can even meet yourself a nice Texan girl and your'e only a few hours away from Dillon, where she wants to move back to and get herself a nice fancy house." She smiled innocently again. "And I'll match what the Dolphins want to pay you."

He arched an eyebrow. "Match it?"

"I'll match it."

"But not double?"

Lyla stood up slowly, unfolding her rather petite frame, but the five inch heels she wore put her almost an inch above Williams. Vince narrowed his eyes, just watching her. Here it comes, he thought, recognizing the shark look. She patted Smash's chest. "Oh Smash," she purred, smiling slow. She was really very pretty, but in a terrifying way. She smiled, maniacal and crazy. "You get Miami to the playoffs this year and I'll triple it. You get Miami to the Super Bowl this year and I'll trip it." She paused, with Smash completely agog at her. Then she pulled back instantly, her voice cooling off, back to power mode. "But you and I both know though that that's not happening on your little lonesome." She pushed at his shoulders, releasing him back into the wild after she'd hooked him. "Have a good flight back to Miami Smash. I'll tell Daddy you said hello."

Smash groaned, dropping his chin to his chest. He picked up the contract and rolled it up, wagging it at her. "And I'm telling Riggins that he must be insane to try to get with you again. That boy must like getting slapped around."

She shrugged, sitting in her seat, her legs crossed and tapping away at her phone. "What Tim and I do is none of your concern. Besides, Tim does his fair share of slapping."

"I don't ever want to think of that."

Vince shuddered; either did he. "Have a good flight, give your mother my best, we'll talk soon." Lyla waited until Smash was gone and then turned her attention towards him. She growled, slapping her hands on the glass desktop. "Don't you ever, ever, EVER, barge into this office again Vince, I don't care how pissed off you are at me." She glared at him, fuming for a moment. He just stared at her; he could do what he felt. She let go of the desk, sighing and leaning back in her chair. Now it was Lyla Garrity, the one that only friends got a chance to see, the power broker hidden back away until the next negotiation. "What do you want anyway?"

He shook off the anger he felt, glaring at her as she got up and walked around him towards her wet bar, removing a decanter of whiskey from the neatly lined up bottles of liquor. It was Jack Daniels. He knew she always drank Jack Daniels when she was stressed. The Williams deal must have been really eating at her. He leaned on one of the chairs in front of her desk, taking her in for a moment. She seemed really stressed out. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"I'm in this job a month and I'm ready to quit, but I'm fine," she said, turning around and holding the crystal glass loosely in her fingertips. She propped her arm on the bar, leaning on it and studying him, her heels dug into the carpet. She sighed again, her gaze softening. "Is this about your mother? I'm sorry I haven't gotten a chance to talk to you about it, but you're never home."

Yeah well neither are you. Besides, her penthouse was so large that they could miss each other for an entire day and still be in the same space. He shrugged a shoulder, looking longingly at the whiskey. It'd be nice, but all that was was a distraction and he didn't need those. "She's doing okay, I just…I need someone to take care of her while I'm in Oakland. Until I can get here or we can break my contract."

Lyla held up her hand, stopping him from getting into the terms that Oakland held him, as much as he wanted to tell her, he knew he couldn't. "Ah. Can't hear it."

"I know, I know," he groaned. He just wanted to come home, he felt like saying. He looked over at her, staring straight into her dark eyes. Lyla Garrity could bluff, she could flat out lie, and she was very, very good at it. The only tell she had, that he'd discovered over being her friends, was that she could not do it to people she loved. It all just fell away and she was the most obvious person in the world. His voice dropped to a whisper. "Did you call Jess and tell her to come to Mom's rehab hospital?"

The way her eyes widened and her lips fell apart slightly was all he needed. "Oh my God Vince." She set the drink aside, walking towards him and took his hand in hers, squeezing hard. "No," she said firmly. She shook her head again. "I didn't do anything like that, I mean…" she looked sheepish. "I'm sorry. I texted her a couple times. Left a couple messages, I just…you've been so alone in Oakland and I thought while you were here you might catch up with her. You guys remind me…"

Don't say it, he thought, shaking his head. "Lyla," he breathed. "Don't."

She let go of his hand, crossing her arms over her chest and whispering. "Tim and I had to leave each other. He was…consumed by me. He wanted nothing more in the world than me. He wanted nothing more, Vince. It wasn't healthy and I had…I had a life to live and couldn't be the reason for him living and he knew that so we separated but we didn't stop loving each other." She bit her lower lip and when he glanced up again, tears were filling her eyes. They wouldn't fall, she was too strong for that and sure enough, she blinked them away. "Vince you loved Jess and she loved you and…and you're adults now and I think it's really nice to fall in love again with the person you first experienced it with."

The problem with that idea was that it was a fantasy. He shook his head, his arms crossed over his chest. She was living in a dream world. Where everything could come true. "That doesn't happen in real life, only in the movies," he said.

"Not until you try," she said. She bit her lower lip, whispering. "And…and if you can get it, then you hold onto it and never let it go. I just thought I'd try with someone I love who…who could use something good in his life." She smiled sadly again, whispering. "You deserve something good Vince. Even the NFL hasn't been good to you, not helping you as much with your mom like they should."

That wasn't their job though. They were using him to make money, that was their job. Play football, which he absolutely loved to do. He loved it. He loved that he could provide for his mother with it and show people that you could get out of the ghetto and do something and have your dreams. That's why he kept with this. He just didn't like that he was thousands of miles away in a city that his mother didn't like, didn't adapt to, and couldn't be in because of her addiction. He raked his hand over his head, dropping his hand to the chair behind him. He looked back over at her. "Then who called Jess?" he whispered. If it wasn't Lyla…who called Jess? He hadn't spoken to anyone…he shrugged. Jess wouldn't tell him. "Who called?"

Someone who knew the situation. Lyla shook her head again. "I don't know. Do you want me to find out?"

"Doesn't matter. She's back and…and I guess I'll have to deal with it." He stood up and took her into his arms, hugging her tight. He whispered into her ear, because right now he felt she needed to hear it. "You're the best Lyla. You are good at your job, don't think you're not."

She squeezed him tightly, letting go a moment later. Her eyes sparkled. "Thank you." She laughed a little, dropping her arms from around him and back to her sides. "You know it's absolutely crazy how we grew up miles from each other and now here we are."

"The beauty of football," he teased. He walked around her and to the door, stopping at it and turning around, smiling wide. "You should really go for Riggins, I know you don't want to, but…hey, you're both single and within the same state, you know?"

Lyla rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "I'll think about it."

"Take him to that children's benefit thing in a few weeks. In New York. I've gotta' go." It was one of the obligations he always attended. He still planned on going this year, it was a ton of fun and before the benefit, and he always walked around and visited with the kids. "It'll be fun."

Lyla tossed her hair out of her eyes, reaching back to tie it in a loose knot at the nape of her neck. "Tell you want," she said, her hands then going to the hips of her sleek black dress. She arched an eyebrow and her lip quirked up. Barter mode, great, Vince thought, squaring off again her. She smiled. "You take Jess with you to the benefit. It's in six weeks. I'll take Tim. Your mom will be out of rehab, right? Is she going to stay with friends?"

"She's going to stay with Luke and Becky," he said. He'd already consulted them on it. They said they'd be more than happy to help out and be with Regina until he came back. It was just three days. Regina liked Molly; maybe being around the little girl would help her out.

"Perfect. You take Jess and I'll take Tim."

Vince sighed, shaking his head a little. It was ridiculous. "You realize that gives us just six weeks to convince two people we dated in high school to go out with us as adults? All grown up and stuff?"

Lyla smirked again, sinking into her chair and picked up the phone, punching in a phone number from memory. She leaned back, propping her feet on the edge of the glass desk. "Yeah, I know. It'll be a blast." She shooed him off with her fingers. "Now leave. I've got to talk to Jason Street and I need all my focus on…hey Jason!"

And now she was back to bartering. He rolled his eyes, walking out of the office and glanced at Clinton, who was glaring at him. "Sorry," he said, for barging in and kept going. He went to the elevators and waited, stepping in and stopping when someone else walked out of them. "Billy?" he exclaimed.

Billy Riggins stared at him for a moment, nervous and wearing a suit. He adjusted the tie. "I don't look like a total ass clown in this, right?" he asked, readjusting the tie. It was terribly knotted, Vince thought, chuckling and reaching up to fix it a little. "Thanks man," he said, slightly relieved. "Hey, what the hell are you doing here? Signing with the Cowboys?"

"No." Not yet. He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Billy smiled stupidly. "Signing with the Cowboys. Hey with me luck man, I hear this VP is a real ball buster, you know?"

"That's just her fuzzy side," Vince said, stepping into the elevator. He frowned a little at Billy's retreating back, shaking his head in disbelief. Well that should be really interesting. He walked back out to his car and climbed in, waiting a moment before he backed out of the parking lot and headed towards the rehab center again.

About an hour later, he was sitting with Regina, both of them playing cards. "I hate this place," Regina commented softly, her eyes darting around at the people in the large common room they were in. "All they do is ask me about you."

"What do you say?" he asked, setting down a card and picking one up. He glanced at the ones he had and then at the ones laid out. Damn. Not yet. He looked back at her. "Mom?"

Regina smiled sadly, setting down her cards. "Gin." She scooped everything up and began to deal them back out for another round. She looked up, her eyes sad and to Vince it seemed like she'd seen everything and just was so tired of it all. I wish I could help, he thought. I wish I could just take it away. "I'm sorry baby. I'm just…I'm so sorry."

Please don't. "It's not your fault."

"It is my fault."

"Mom, don't…let's just…" He took the cards from her and dealt them out, smiling across at her. He covered her frail hand with his, squeezing carefully; it seemed like she might break. He met her eyes, focusing intently on them. "It's going to be okay. This time is different. It's all going to be okay." And for some reason this time he honestly believed it and he really wasn't sure why.


	11. The Offense

**11. The Offense**

I love how this isn't even really a Saturday for me, Lyla thought, yawning loudly. She covered her mouth with her forearm, walking slowly down the stairs of her father's house, stopping hard in her tracks when she saw Tim stretched out on the couch, watching some fishing show. She looked around; Buddy was nowhere in sight. "Can I help you?" she mumbled, walking around the couch and into the kitchen.

Son of a bitch, there was no coffee. She shoved the empty carafe back onto the hotplate, making sure to turn it off, since the little green light was still on. She turned back around to complain at him, but he was presenting her with a venti sugar-free vanilla triple shot non-fat latte, with extra foam. Or at least, she prayed that it was. With one sip, she knew he had it perfect. "Oh bless you," she groaned, taking another long, scalding drink. She swallowed, looking up at him as he smiled at her. She narrowed her eyes. "What?"

"You got a little something…" Tim reached up to wipe at her upper lip with his thumb, but he shrugged. "Aw, what the hell."

No don't you…too late, she thought, as he swooped in and kissed her. She wrapped her free arm around his neck, breaking the kiss a moment later. Her eyes slowly fluttered open and she smiled. "You get one."

"One more." He kissed her again, hard and fast, letting go and took the drink from her. He sipped it and shuddered. "How can you drink this?"

"I like it and it's not yours, so give it back." She took it from him, drinking and following him into the living room. "Where's my dad?"

"Football stadium."

"It's only July."

"They're moving into the two-a-days every two weeks," he said.

"Brutal."

"He thinks they'll make State." Tim leaned back on the couch, peering at her over the top of his coffee cup, which had the red tag of a teabag hanging out from the top of it. He set it down on the coffee table, reaching for the newspaper. He flicked it open to the sports page. "Let me read you a little something that caught my eye. I felt like we needed to discuss this development."

"We don't need to discuss anything Tim." They'd moved into a comfortable tolerance of each other of the past couple of months. She was getting better at her job, she was still with Vince while he helped Regina, and she hadn't heard anything about whether or not he'd called Jess or was seeing her in any way, shape or form. All she knew was that when she came out here to visit her dad, Tim was usually not far off. I feel like there's a homing beacon on me. Or like he was a bloodhound, sniffing her out.

There had been a lot of drinking last night with Jason, who was in town with Erin. Noah and Lily were visiting his parents. If she heard from her father one more time about how unfair it was that Mitchell and Joanne Street had two grandchildren to dote on and he didn't even have one, she was going to suffocate him with a pillow. So she'd gone out with Erin and Jason and tied on a few. Landry said he was filling half the glasses with water instead of vodka, but she thought Tyra had been switching them behind Landry's back.

She wiped at her face, sitting down on the armrest of the couch. "What?" she demanded, staring at the image of a Texas Ranger baseball player pitching on the front of the sports page. "Tim, it's July. It's minicamp season. It's contract signing and finalizations, I'm looking at new talent who are coming up for renewals and free agency if they'll fit with our schemes. I'm not interested in…"

"Ah, here it is," Tim said, talking over her. He glanced across the top of the newspaper. _"According to sources within the Cowboys executive management, Garrity, who has been the Cowboys Vice President of Administration and Director of Player Personnel for the last eight weeks, is on the short list for the GM position when Ryan Ellison departs. The same sources report Ellison is entertaining offers in broadcasting, which is more to his skills and his goals rather than those of his father, the late Edward Ellison, who wanted to own a professional sports team and sent his two sons to run it for him. It is all but confirmed that Ellison will leave before the beginning of the season, thrusting Garrity from her new comfortable position as VP into the hotseat as the GM for the Cowboys. This move would make Garrity the first female GM for an NFL team and would put her back under the spotlight she has comfortably moved out of in the last six weeks. Garrity has faced several personal attacks since her ascension to the VP spot, rumored to be involved with Vince Howard, quarterback for the Oakland Raiders, supposedly violating recruitment guidelines with Miami Dolphins running back and former high school colleague Smash Williams, and also attacks on her character, with some sources saying she is involved with…" _Tim looked up, glaring at her, his voice hard. "_A convicted felon based out of her hometown of Dillon, Texas. Representatives for Garrity said they do not comment on her personal life. Calls were not returned by the Cowboys."_

"We've been through this," Lyla said. She didn't care what the media said. The rumors were true. Ryan wanted out of the GM job. He'd basically given it to her anyway. The coaching staff couldn't stand him, he hated them, and the scouts were torn between loyalty to her and the GM and the coaches. It was anarchy in the Dallas Cowboys headquarters, she thought. She ripped the newspaper from his hands, dropping it into the table. She sighed hard. "Let it go. You comment on this and it's a story. They're bored, the Brittany shit from months ago was nothing to them and means nothing now. They want more, they're trying to stir it up."

"I get cameras in my face and someone's losing a hand."

"You do that." She sank down onto the end of the couch, moving his feet. He sat up, reaching around for her shoulders, beginning to massage. Hmmm, she groaned, dropping her chin to her chest. That felt so good. She rolled her head back, opening an eye on him. "Why aren't you at work?"

"Newsflash Garrity, on Saturdays most people don't work."

Oh, that's right. She hadn't had a weekend off in…well since Memorial Day; and this weekend, obviously, to be home for Fourth of July on Monday. She slowly rose to her feet, taking her coffee with her. "What are you doing today?" she asked. She figured he'd be hanging out with Jason, but he didn't say anything. She turned back around, still waiting.

Tim stretched, shrugging his shoulders. "Dunno. Hanging with you. Six and his kids are going to Austin today…." He yawned, closing his eyes and resting his head on a cushion. "I don't want to do the family thing, so I'm just here." Nice to know, she thought, walking into the kitchen and reached into a bag sitting on the counter. It smelled delicious. Ooh, she thought, her eyes lighting up. Bagels. "Nice. Are these from that new bakery?"

"With smelly fish and everything."

"It's called lox," she said, spreading cream cheese on her bagel. She set it on a plate, doctored it up the way she liked with lox, onion, tomato, and capers. Tim, on the other hand, took the sugary cinnamon bagel and glopped on mounds of cinnamon sugar cream cheese. She rolled her eyes. "You need to quit eating like a teenager."

"Until they tell me I can't, I will."

"Who are 'they'?"

"They, you know…" he trailed off, taking a giant bite of his bagel. He spoke through his food, muffled. "They. The people who tell me what to do."

She took a delicate bite of her bagel, closing her eyes at the rich taste. God, it had been so long since she'd eaten something that wasn't a takeout salad. It was so good. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, carrying her food out onto the back porch. They sat down at the wooden table in the corner of the porch, looking out at the backyard. It was a beautiful early July morning and it hadn't yet gotten sickly hot. Perfect Texas, she thought, sighing and looking out at the tall, dry grass.

Tim noisily bit into his bagel again. She smiled slightly; then there was that, breaking the pristine silence. He leaned back in his chair. "Your dad needs to knock that stuff down," he said, gesturing towards the grass. "Gonna' get snakes."

"There's always snakes." She didn't go tromping out there anyway. That was just stupid. "He'll get to it eventually." She ate her bagel, enjoying the comfort of sharing her breakfast with someone else. It wasn't a stale Pop-Tart and cup of coffee over a contract or some super fancy breakfast meeting where she didn't touch her food because she was going over game film or reviewing options with Coach Michaels or the GM.

When she finished, she leaned back in the chair, still wearing her pajamas, which consisted of an old Dillon Panthers shirt and a pair of cropped jersey shorts. She lifted her feet up, draping them over Tim's knees. This was really nice, she thought, closing her eyes and savoring. What a nice weekend beginning. "Why weren't you with us at the bar last night?" she murmured.

"Was working."

"I didn't know you worked night shifts."

"No," he sighed, sipping his tea. He took a few swallows, shrugging. He glanced sideways. "Had to get a tax extension, I was finishing it all up to send in."

"Tax extension? Tim filing is in April," she laughed. "It's July."

"Well I had to get some paperwork together," he laughed, rolling his eyes and drinking his tea. They kept quiet, until he spoke softly. "Do you want to hang out with me today? I gotta' run some errands. Hardware store…lumber yard…that sort of thing."

A day of driving around in his truck visiting hardware stores, lumber yards, and other assorted odds and ends? She smiled warmly; sounded perfect. She swung her legs off his lap and stood up, finishing her coffee cup. "Let me go get changed." She dropped the cup in the trash with her plate and the remnants of the bagel bag, going upstairs and into her room to change. She selected a pair of jeans, boots, and a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Where's your cowboy hat?" Tim asked, waiting for her by his truck a few minutes later. He held open the door for her, grinning. She scowled at him, but said nothing. It was her Texas outfit. She was more comfortable in this than the fancy suits and clothing she wore on a daily basis back in Dallas. He tweaked the fabric of her sleeve. "Good thing too, with our first stop."

"And what would that be?"

"You'll see."

Oh I'll see, she thought, arching an eyebrow and watching him climb up into the car. He was wearing a similar outfit, a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a visible t-shirt underneath. That was contrary to his usual attire in high school, where it was usually unbuttoned almost to his navel. He looked over his shoulder as he backed out of her dad's driveway, his massive truck engine rumbling. She looked around the cab; it was very nice. Leather seats, a space age dashboard, and actual air conditioning. "What happened to the old black beauty?" she asked.

"Black Beauty needed to retire, but she's still active when she doesn't have to go very far. We're going kinda' far today."

Oh? "Where are we going?" she wondered, looking out the window as they went the opposite direction from Dillon. They were going towards Laribee, she thought. That was odd. There wasn't much in Laribee. The mall and everything was in Westerbee. Then there was West Cambria, where there was an actual Starbucks and most of the office complexes. This was weird. "The hardware store would be in Dillon. As far as I know the lumber yard is in Dillon too."

"We're not going there yet, we're going somewhere else."

Lyla leaned against the window, reaching to prop her elbow up on the window ledge. She didn't like surprises. Especially with Tim doing the surprising. It usually involved things that exploded or could end someone up in jail. "Come on tell me."

"No, keep your mouth shut." He draped his arm over the steering wheel. A moment passed and he smirked, glancing sideways. "So I heard that you tied a few on last night with Erin Street. I thought she was a mom now."

"She is a mom, but she can drink with the best of them. Besides, I think Tyra was filling the glasses with vodka instead of water."

"There's a strong possibility, she likes seeing you wasted."

That wasn't very nice. Or was it? Lyla wasn't sure, with Tyra. She narrowed her eyes, following the empty road ahead of them. They were heading towards the ranches, she realized. They passed one of the larger ones, which one of her investment brokers had suggested she buy, if she wanted to end up back home one day. I can't do stuff like that, she thought. Although she loved horses. "Why does she like seeing me wasted? I can tell you that I don't enjoy being wasted." Who did? Not even Tim liked it.

Tim shrugged, turning down another road. They kept driving for a few more minutes until he chuckled. "I don't think it's she likes seeing you drunk, I think she likes seeing you loosen up. Crazy Lyla Garrity. You can get really uptight so when you're not…well it's fun. You're fun."

She smiled slightly. Not many people could say that about her but him. "Yeah well." She reached into her bag, removing some aspirin, which she dry-swallowed in lieu of using the bottle of water that had probably been sitting in Tim's cupholder since he bought the truck. She shuddered as the pill made its way to her stomach. "Thanks for that. Why are we at a ranch?"

It had to be the place they were going. Tim parked behind a bar and climbed out, nodding for her to follow him. He grabbed a bag from behind his chair, walking into a set of long stables. A few pretty horses poked their noses out of their stalls to investigate the visitors, but returned to their tail-swishing or eating or sleeping when they saw who it was.

What are we doing here? "Tim should we be here?" she hissed, keeping her voice down so she wouldn't spook any of the beautiful creatures. They were so pretty. So calm. She stopped behind Tim, when he reached the final stall. He opened up the bag and removed a long carrot, passing it to her. She glanced at it and up to him again. "A carrot?"

"For her."

Lyla frowned, until she realized he was looking into the stall. Oh? She peeked around him, her eyes widening at the beautiful sight. There was a foal curved against its mother, who was licking its head. Both mother and baby were a rich chestnut with white markings on their faces and feet. They had black manes and the little one had several white spots along its back. "Looks like marshmallows in hot chocolate," she whispered, the image suddenly popping into her head.

Tim leaned his shoulder against hers, guiding her hand slowly outward with the carrot. The foal perked up and then slowly got to its feet, awkward and gangly as it walked over, curious. The mother stood as well, keeping a protective eye on them and her baby. Beautiful, Lyla thought, smiling as the foal began to nibble up the side of the carrot. Its big dark eyes focused on them both and she swore that it smiled. He lightly touched the foal's forehead, scratching between her eyes. "She was born a few weeks ago," he said, his voice hushed. She was just standing there, slightly dumbfounded at the pretty horse.

It was just so calm. Quiet, even on a busy ranch. She sighed, blinking a few times. I'm crying. I have no idea why I'm crying. She wiped quickly at the corners of her eyes with her knuckles, scattering the tears aside. "They're beautiful," she whispered, her voice cracking slightly. She coughed, shaking her head and bringing herself back to the moment. Still didn't explain everything. "So why are we even here?"

"Because," Tim sighed. He nodded to the mother, smiling softly. "Because she's mine and…and the baby's coming with her, so…I wanted you to see them. I'm transferring them to the house in a few weeks. Luke is going to help with them. He grew up on a pig farm."

"Becky said he sold his pig for her," she whispered. That was actually kind of romantic.

"He did."

You never sold anything for me, she wanted to say, just to tease, but right now it wouldn't have been teasing. It would have been…sad. Because he didn't really give up a lot for her. It seemed like he had, but in reality he'd pushed and protested when she wanted him to do something outside of his comfort zone. The closest he'd come to doing something he was completely adamant against was going to college, but he hadn't bothered staying beyond a couple of days. She shook her head slightly, whispering. "You didn't sell a pig for me." It needed to be said.

Tim reached out to stroke the mother's face, his hands lightly moving along her smooth coat. He dropped them to the stall door, nodding to the large chestnut as she moved away. "I didn't plan on buying her, just…I brought Melanie here a few times, I do some work for them, rebuilding stables and barns and stuff and she was with me. Loved the horses. Said she wanted one, but…I didn't want the job of taking care of them." He sighed again. "Then she went away and…and you were here and I just….I wanted the horse, you know? The thing is Garrity…I'll leave them." He glanced sideways to her again, whispering. Dead serious. "I'll leave them here and I'll leave my house and I'll move to Dallas to be with you. If that's what it takes to be with you, I'll do it."

If that's what it takes. She smiled sadly, looking back at the pretty little horse. "What's her name?" she asked.

He pointed to the mother. "The momma is Aurora. This little gal is…well I don't want to say."

Aw, why not, she wondered, smiling and letting go of the little foal, who scampered back to her mother, nuzzling under her neck and moving closer. They settled back down a few minutes later, the mother licking her baby's head a few times. It was so pretty, she thought again, smiling wide. She looked down at her hand; it was steady. She hadn't felt steady in a long, long time. "What's her name?" she repeated. Her stomach flipped. She had a feeling about it.

He sighed, shaking his head again. His arm went around her shoulders, loosely draped so his fingertips brushed over the inside of her elbow. "Her name is Garrity," he whispered. He glanced down at her when she instantly lifted her head. You named the baby after me? He smiled, but it didn't meet his eyes and was slightly sad. "She seemed like you."

Thank you, she thought, resting her head against his shoulder. She closed her eyes, whispering what she'd been thinking a moment before. It wasn't fair to just let him wonder. "Tim I don't want you to move to Dallas if…" she trailed off, glancing back up to him again. "You said if that's what it takes. I don't want you to move to Dallas if that's what it takes. I want you to move to Dallas because you want to be with me. Because your ealize that I have a career and goals and they're in Dallas right now and…and in a few years they might be in New York, Tim." She continued, his face unmoving. "Or…or Kansas City or Minnesota or…hell Tim, they may be in Cleveland or Cincinnati or Seattle! Anywhere there's an NFL team, I could move if the job is better."

That wasn't necessarily true. Dallas was where she'd been trying to get. Back to Texas. It was just a test on him. Tim's forehead flickered in a frown. He cleared his throat, shrugging slightly. "I don't know," he whispered. He frowned deeper, his voice hard. "I want to be with you."

"So long as you want to be outside of Dillon." She bit on her lower lip, smiling slightly as she glanced back at the foal. "Um, why don't you come with me to New York next weekend? It can be a test." A weekend in New York wasn't a test, but…it would sort of be a test. She smiled again at his curious look, turning so they were squared off to each other against the stall door. She draped her arm on the door, tapping her fingernails against the side. "There's a benefit. Every year it's a really big deal, but it's for the NFL charity, it's called Touchdowns for Tots."

"What's that?"

She smiled again. It was one of the happier things she got to take part in. "It's a charity, each team, for one weekend chooses a charity and every touchdown that they make, they donate portions of the ticket sales from their team to a chosen charity, all of them involving children. The Cowboys donate their funds to children's brain cancer research because one of the former players had a son who passed away from brain cancer. The NFL throws a big gala in New York, it's super fancy, nice clothes, all that, and the players tour of the children's hospitals, usually on their own time and it's just a big night to have fun and donate to a good cause." She pulled a little on the front of his shirt, leaning towards him, smiling wide. "And I think you'll look hot in tails."

He scowled. "Tails?"

"White tie and tails, like old-fashioned Victorian England," she drawled in a fake British accent. She pulled him towards her, kissing him gently. After a few seconds, she broke the kiss, her eyelashes fluttering as she opened her eyes slowly. Tim was smiling down at her. "I stay at the Greenwich Hotel, I have a personal car take me around, and I like to dress down and sneak around New York like I'm a starving actress or something." She kissed him one more time. "And I want you to come with me."

It would be a decent test, she thought. They could hang around in her element, with her 'people' and in an environment where he would be highly uncomfortable. If he managed to withstand it and still wanted to be with her, they could consider him moving to Dallas and making a real go of it and none of this…hanging around each other on the weekends or something. Not that they'd done that. She let go of him and glanced back at the horses again. "They're beautiful Tim."

Tim nodded, letting go of the stall door. "Let's get going. We gotta' go to the store so I can build their stalls in the barn." He hadn't said yes or not to the benefit. Lyla tried not to let that get to her. She knew he had to decide on it and he was thrown a bit that she'd sort of rejected him giving up the horses for her. She walked ahead of him to the truck, waiting in the cab while he spoke with a couple of people at the ranch.

The day progressed normally. They went to the hardware store, the lumber yard, they got lunch and ate it in the back of his truck at the lake. She fell asleep with her head in his lap while he sketched out the design of the stall, just sitting in the shade by the lake. When she woke up they went to his house, where he disappeared into the barn to put away the things he'd bought.

She went through his house, cleaning up a bit because it annoyed her. "I'm not your maid," she bitched, when he came back in and tossed his sweaty flannel shirt on the floor by his bedroom door. She looked up, trying not to smile when he turned around, very obviously taking off his jeans in front of her before he walked into his bathroom and left the door open, the shower starting a moment later. Don't do it Lyla, she thought, running her tongue over her teeth as she picked up his clothes. A moment later, his boxers came flying out of the bathroom door and he started whistling. "I'm not biting!" she shouted over the sound of the shower.

"Your call!"

Damn right it's my call, she thought, scowling and fighting every urge she had to jump in there with him. Don't do it, don't do it. She checked her messages, thinking maybe work would keep her busy, but she didn't want to do that. It was a holiday weekend. It was supposed to be enjoyed, with no work at all. Clinton was holding steady, not forwarding her anything to her phone. She set it back in her purse, going to the fridge and pulled things out for dinner.

And the rest of the night was actually quite nice, for someone who hadn't had time or energy to cook for herself or someone else in forever. She even made cupcakes, licking chocolate frosting off her fingertips when she finished. "Here," she said, unscrewing the blade from the mixer, which she assumed that Melanie had gotten Tim, because he certainly wouldn't get one.

Tim licked the bottom of it, his eyes lighting up a bit. "What's in that?"

"Chocolate with a little bit of instant coffee to bring out the flavors." She nodded to the TV. "Put something on. I'll finish these up." She fell into a comfortable…she wasn't sure what it was. Trance, she supposed, running the spatula over the top of each cupcake. She arranged them on a plate in a pretty pattern, setting them in the center of the kitchen island.

The sun was setting and he'd left the French doors open to the living room to let in the cool evening breeze. She went into his room, putting on a large button down shirt of his over her tank top, removing her jeans, which felt like they were sticking to her legs, and pulled on a pair of his boxers, rolling the waistband down a bit so they'd fit. "Move over," she ordered, carrying a plate with two cupcakes over to the couch.

Tim passed her a bottle of beer. "Beer and cupcakes," he drawled, pulling down the edge of the wrapper on his cupcake. "I put in a movie."

Lyla glanced at the television, which had the small pocket drive in the side, the little light blinking that it had downloaded its contents to the television. "What movie?" she asked.

"Don't get mad at me."

She dropped her hands to her lap, glaring at him. "Tim!"

"It's my favorite movie!"

"If I see Brian's Song one more time…"

He leaned over, kissing the corner of her mouth. "Chocolate," he said as an excuse, although she hadn't even taken a bite of her cupcake yet. He sighed, slouching down. "Naw, I'm kidding, it isn't Brian's Song. It's your favorite movie."

Her eyes lit up and she turned her head just as the beginning started. "The Philadelphia Story," she sighed, knocking her head to his. She smiled wide. "You missed me."

Tim rested his hand on her thigh, his fingertips tapping it lightly for a moment. He released a deep sigh, his entire shoulders slouching down in release. He met her gaze a moment later; it made her stomach jump slightly. What, she wondered, frowning slightly. He spoke, his voice kind of scratchy. "You have no idea how much I missed you."

She swallowed, her throat dry. I think I might know, she thought, turning her head away to the television. She coughed, trying not to get too emotional. It had been a nice day. Just them…getting to know each other. She closed her eyes, whispering. "Let's just watch the movie." They would decide after next weekend.


	12. The Audible

**12. The Audible**

"This bathroom is insane."

"Will you please leave the bathroom?" Lyla shouted over her shoulder. She rolled her eyes; he'd been obsessed with the bathroom for about fifteen minutes. She walked over to the front door of her suite, which was in her favorite hotel in New York, The Greenwich. She pulled it open, smiling as a bellman held up the garment bag clad outfits from Armani, Hugo Boss, and Prada. "Ah! Perfect, come on in." She stepped aside, letting him hang it in the closet before she gave him a decent tip. "Thank you."

She closed the door, knowing that he'd be back soon, since Clinton said that he'd requested dresses for her from various designers. They wanted her to pick theirs because they knew she'd be photographed. She walked by the bathroom as Tim walked out, sniffing the soap. "Who was that?" he asked.

"Your tails are here."

"What?"

"We'll try them on later. After lunch. " Lyla turned on her heel, grinning up at him. She grabbed a Dillon Panthers baseball hat, tugging it down over her head. She clapped her hands together. "Let's go be starving artists."

He smiled. "Because it's so boring being what we are."

"Always." He wrapped his arm around her waist, tugging her up against him. No, she thought, closing her eyes as he swayed her from side to side for a moment, his lips brushing across her ear and down to her shoulder. She sighed, running her fingers through his hair. This felt so nice. It seemed like they'd be fine, but…Tim had been a little awkward, a little uncomfortable around the opulence of downstairs. He hadn't minded the driver, as "I'm not driving in New York, screw that" when they left the airport.

She sighed again, mumbling. "We should go. I have tickets."

"Tickets to what?"

"A musical. I think you might like it." She dropped another kiss to his lips. Tim had a secret side. He liked Broadway. Jason had mentioned to her a long time ago that they'd seen Gypsy. She couldn't imagine Tim sitting there listening to "Everything's Coming up Roses" but apparently he did. She tossed her hair from her eyes and he let go of one arm from around her waist to reach up to tilt the hat back a little. She smirked. "It's called 'Pippin.'"

"Pippin?" he laughed. He frowned a little. "What the hell is that? You know Phantom is playing again."

"You call it Phantom?" she giggled. There was a hidden side to him. All this time and she hardly ever knew. She dropped a quick kiss to his lips, letting go of him. Otherwise this would end up somewhere it shouldn't. They had two separate rooms, but only a narrow hallway and bit of wall separated the two rooms in the large suite. If only I could have gotten one of the ones that was bigger, like the Presidential one or something, she thought. It would make resisting him so much easier.

It was sweltering outside, so she just grabbed a very light cardigan to put on over her tank top when they were in the theater. Since it was a matinee showing, they had a few hours, which she planned to savor by spending them in Central Park, wandering around and then maybe hitting Madison Avenue for a few minutes. And Tiffany's, since her sister's birthday was coming up and she needed to find her at least something she could return for the cash.

Tim shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans, wandering out of the suite as she closed the door. He made his way down the hallway, stopping in front of the elevator. Lyla glanced up, recognizing the action hero star standing there with his girlfriend. "Howdy," Tim said, smiling at them.

They seemed a little surprised and the guy frowned a little; Lyla had never met him, but knew he was in a bunch of superhero franchises. "Hi," the guy said. What was his name, she wondered. Chris? Chris something? She hadn't been to a movie in ages. Maybe he was going to the benefit that evening.

"You visiting?"

Lyla's eyebrows lifted a little and she smiled behind her hand as the actor just smiled. "Yeah, we have a benefit thing tonight. You visiting New York? First time?"

"Naw, my friend lives here." Tim snapped his fingers, glancing at her. "Shoot, I forgot my phone. Gimme the key to the room." He wiggled his fingers and she placed the card in his hand. He ran off down the hall, leaving her with the movie star and his girlfriend, who were just smiling at her.

Lyla shrugged. "He doesn't get out much," she said.

The guy, she was fairly sure his name was Chris, cocked his head. "Aren't you that football executive?"

"No." The elevator dinged and she smiled slightly, gesturing. "You guys go on ahead, I'll wait for him." She smiled again as the doors shut, just as Tim appeared at her side. She nodded towards it. "I didn't know how long you'd be and didn't want them to wait. Do you realize who that was?"

"No, who?"

"The actor from the superhero movies. The X-Men ones or the Marvel ones or something."

She knew she'd get a response from him, since he actually read comics. "And how many of there are those?" Tim said sarcastically. He checked his phone, sent something to a folder on the main screen, and then shoved it in his back pocket. He shoved his hands into his pockets again, rocking on his heels. He smiled quickly at her. "So what are we doing first?"

"Central Park," she drawled, looping her arm through is, walking into the waiting elevator. She leaned back against it, cocking her head slightly. "I think maybe we'll go to the carousel and then we'll get ice cream and…what are you doing?" She looked down, frowning slightly as he threaded his fingers in hers. She squeezed his hand lightly; he didn't answer. They walked out together, their hands entwined. She smiled, walking out of the hotel and into the street. He took a left, leading them straight to Central Park.

To her shock, Tim took them through New York, down into the subway and navigated it all with ease. How would he…oh, Jason. He visited Jason a lot. They used to live in New Jersey but now had a Brooklyn loft. Of course Tim would know Manhattan though. It was kind of like him. Chaotic, she thought, but…but it was kind of steady, she couldn't explain it. You could count on Manhattan to always surprise you. That was Tim.

I love you, she thought, sitting beside him on the subway. She frowned al ittle. "This doesn't take us to Central Park," she said, protesting a little.

"I know it doesn't."

"Then where are we going?"

"To a romantic's paradise," he said, rolling his eyes a little. What did that mean? They got off several stops later, coming up to the surface, where she grinned, seeing the building right beside them. She glanced up at him, still smiling. Tim didn't say anything, taking her into the lobby. They got their tickets, took the elevator up, and after a few minutes, found a spot on the observation deck overlooking Manhattan. Tim leaned against one of the telescopes, his eyes shielded by sunglasses. "What do you think?'

"I think we're very high up in the air right now."

"Not that high." Tim glanced over the edge of the observation deck. His hair was blowing around his face, giving him a roguish appearance. Tom Hanks on top of the Empire State Building, he was not, she thought. Not even Cary Grant. He was Tim Riggins, she thought, gripping the other side of the telescope. He cocked his head a little. "What are you thinking Garrity?"

I'm thinking how this is working out and we've only been on the ground in New York for a few hours. We'll see how tonight goes, she thought, shaking her head and reaching her hand out. "Give me some change, I want to see in this thing."

"You're the millionaire."

"I don't carry cash." Tim grumbled, but fished out some coins for her to put in the telescope so she could see across the tops of the buildings, scanning the horizon for…invaders, she supposed. "What about the Statue of Liberty next?" she suggested. They could get there and back in time for the matinee.

"Whatever you want Garrity." Yes, she thought, dropping from the telescope and smiling across at him. I suppose it is whatever I want today. She reached for him, knowing it was cliché, but hell, she deserved cliché. He smiled slightly against her lips when she kissed him. "What are you doing?" he murmured.

She shrugged. "Kissing you on top of the Empire State Building."

"Didn't peg you for a romantic comedy girl."

"Oh I can romance with the best of them," she teased, kissing him hard. She wrapped her arms tighter around him, ignoring the people who were surely wondering what the hell they were doing. I don't care. I just don't care anymore. When she finally pulled away to breathe, he was smiling wide. "What?" she whispered, catching her breath.

He kissed her again, softly. "I love you." I knew you were going to say that, she thought, nodding slightly. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it and smiled again. "You don't have to say anything." He let go of her, walking away towards the inside of the building, leaving her standing in surprise at the base of the telescope.

What the hell? She blinked a few times, turning in place. She shook her head slightly. Okay then. Guess he really didn't need her to say anything else. She went inside, found him in the gift shop buying something. "Who is that for?" she asked, as he took the small figurine of the Empire State Building.

"Tyra. She likes stupid things like this from places. Here, put it in your bag?" So she shoved the little thing in her bag, slinging it back across her chest where the bag bumped against her hip as they left the Empire State Building, wandering off through the streets of New York until they got the subway again.

I love this, she thought, a couple of hours later as they were coming back on the ferry from the Statue of Liberty. She closed her eyes, sighing in happiness. This was just…calming, she thought again. She didn't care about anything right now. She didn't care about the rumors that were rising steadily regarding her future career goals, or how Ryan wanted to talk to her after the gala, back in Dallas. Then there was the beginning of training camp and how their running back could barely run after his latest knee surgery. Smash was so close to coming on board, but Jason was holding him back, why she wasn't sure.

Tim brushed his lips over the top of her head. "Don't think."

Don't think. It was easier said than done, she thought, smiling up at him and accepting the kiss he placed on her cheek. She said nothing, turning her head and looking out over the harbor as the ferry docked near Battery Park. "Let's go," she said, bypassing the street to lead them to the subway. She hailed a cab. "We have a show to see."

After the show, which Tim kept humming along to, they went to Tiffany's, where she located a simple chain and charm for her sister. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Tim talking to someone, hoping he wasn't getting sucked into buying something he didn't need. By the time she was done, he'd left the salesperson, but there was something he had hidden in his pocket. "What'd you buy?" she asked.

"Nothing."

"Tim."

"Leave it alone," he snapped, leaving the store without saying a word. She blinked; well okay then, geeze. Once they got back to the hotel she showered, tying her robe incredibly tight around her lest Tim get any fancy ideas, and went into her room while he took over the bathroom. She unzipped the garment bags, hanging the dresses up and studying the ones Clinton had chosen for her. She had to admit, the little bastard had good taste and knew her preferences for clothing. He also knew what made her look good. "I think this one," she murmured, choosing a simple white sheath that fell to the floor in a short train. It had slight cap sleeves and a bit of a 'v' in the back. The fabric crossed over her stomach in a very slimming way.

The door opened, Tim wandering in half dressed in one of the outfits. "What's the difference?" he asked, holding up two of the white shirts. She glanced at them. One was Prada and the other was the Hugo Boss.

"One cost five-hundred and the other six-hundred."

"Shut up. No way. Who would pay for that?"

"You're not paying for it," she said, walking over and helped him into the Hugo Boss one, which she thought was much more tailored to him. She buttoned it up and then flipped the cuffs up, holding her hand out. "Get me that little box on the dresser." She waited for him to come over with the box, flicked it open and turned it towards him, smirking. "Cuff links."

"They have a T on them."

"For Tim," she said, smiling up at him. A slight panic crossed his face as he turned his hand up for her to get to his wrist, attaching the cuff link through his shirt. She did the other one and then nodded towards the other room. "Go get the rest of your things. Let me change."

Tim stopped in front of her dresses, glancing at them. He ignored the white one, which she liked, removing a dark green gown with lace sleeves and back. It had cap sleeves, which she preferred, and a gold clasped belt around the waist before it flared down into a long column skirt. "Wear this," he ordered, hanging it in front of the white one.

There was something he had with her and green dresses, she thought, it must bring out my eyes or something. She smiled slightly, crossing her arms over her chest. "You're dressing me now?" she asked. Not that that was a bad thing, but she wanted to mess around with him. "How do you know that this will match everything else I have?"

"You're a millionaire, you have shoes and everything else."

"But I have a plan."

"If you had a plan you wouldn't have six dresses." He turned back around, gesturing to the door. "Do you want me to go or not?" He smiled lecherously. "Cause' I could stay, especially if…" he darted around her to the bed, where she'd laid out the lingerie she planned to wear beneath the dress, lifting up the bra. "I get to see this."

"Tim!" she shouted, grabbing the bra and hitting him with it. Her cheeks flushed a little. They never were going to get out of here on time. She pushed him, giggling, towards the door and slammed the door, shouting at it. "Get dressed!" The car was going to be there soon and she still had to do her hair and makeup. She smiled, in spite of it all, and sank into the seat in front of the mirror, reaching for her makeup case. She refused to have her hair and makeup done by anyone other than herself.

While she was doing her makeup, her hair tied back from her face in a braided twist, her phone went off beside her. She set down the eyeliner, picking it up and frowned slightly at Jeff's phone number. She tapped it and hit speaker, so she wouldn't smudge her foundation. "What's going on Jeff?"

"I know I plan on seeing you later tonight at the gala, but I wanted to get your…temperature on something." No, she immediately thought, closing her eyes. Her heart began to pound hard against her ribcage. She released a slow breath, staring at her reflection in the mirror. This was it, huh? It felt so strange. Surreal. Jeff, who had no idea how much she was mentally preparing, just launched in. "As you know Ryan is going back into broadcasting. I want to name you the General Manager, but I need to act like I'm giving other people a chance, just for public relations purposes. Hypothetically, if I ask you to be the GM, would you accept?"

I knew it, she thought, closing her eyes. She swallowed hard. GM. That was just…she cleared her throat, her voice soft. "Jeff that's a big…a big deal, I mean…"

"You know contracts Lyla, but you also know football. You can see what makes someone a good fit for a team and what doesn't make them a good fit. You have the eye. The passion. I want you for this," Jeff said. He dropped a bit more seriousness into his voice. "Lyla, this isn't about how close you are to the family. You're close with me, with Ryan, this is…this is all above-board, all professional. I want the best person for the job and that person is you. Think about it. Ryan will announce on Monday that he's leaving the Cowboys. I want to announce you as the GM within two weeks of that."

Two weeks? She closed her eyes. "I've been in this for two months," she said. Not an acceptance. Not a denial either. Just…fact. There would be concerns about her tenure. She tried to smile, but it just seemed like a grimace in the mirror. "Jeff I'm not even 35. There are guys in the NFL who have waited twenty or thirty years before they get where they are. You're going to have a lot of pushback."

"The only person who makes the final decision is me, the owner of the team, and I want you to be the GM. Think about it. Give me an answer in at least two weeks." Jeff paused. His voice lightened up a bit. "I have some other news. I'm getting married."

What?! Her eyes widened; that was a change of subject. "Excuse me?"

"Melanie. Thanks for introducing her to me, she's just…" he sighed, dramatic. I have never heard you talk like this before, Lyla thought, her eyes still the size of quarters. "She's just amazing. We're looking at a September wedding. You're invited, unless it'll be awkward."

Seeing as my date would probably be Tim, yeah, awkward would be a bit of an understatement. She cleared her throat. "Well…congratulations Jeff, that's wonderful. I'll see Melanie at the gala, give her my best wishes."

"She's looking forward to it. See you in a few."

Yeah, she thought, disconnecting. She stood up, half of her makeup complete, pacing for a few minutes. Aw, hell, she thought, falling back into her chair and reached back for the eyeliner. She composed herself, calmly finishing up the makeup and then stood, dressing slowly. She opened up the bedroom door, walking into the living room, where Tim was lying on the couch, wearing half of his tuxedo. You're going to wrinkle it, she wanted to say, but she just gestured to her back. "Zip me."

Tim stood, walking around to her. "You look nice," he commented, reaching for the zipper.

"Up! Not down."

"Just testing you." He tugged the zipper up to her neck, reaching down for the white tie sitting on the coffee table. He held it up and passed it to her. Slightly sheepish, he shrugged. "I don't know how to tie a bow tie," he mumbled. The awkwardness was starting to set in, she thought, smoothing out his shirt. She wrapped the tie around his neck, folding the ends together and began to tie it. He glanced down after she messed it up a couple of times, smiling slowly. "Problems?"

"Just…flustered, hang on, I have to…" she walked around behind him, rising up on her toes and looking in the hall mirror, watching her reflection tie the tie. She tugged on the ends, fluffing it slightly. Perfect. She patted it lightly and then smoothed her hands down over his shoulders. "Here." Taking the black dinner jacket, she held it open and he slipped his arms into it. She ran her hands on the arms, tugging it down.

There was something very…clean about him. She liked it, but despite the fact that Tim looked like a dashing Prince Charming in his tuxedo and tails and white bow tie, she would have much preferred him in the torn jeans and flannel he'd been wearing earlier that day. This isn't him, she thought, frowning slightly and looking up when he turned around. He smiled down at her, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "You look beautiful," he said, his voice soft. He smiled again, offering her his arm. "Shall we?"

In spite of herself, she grinned, nodding and wrapped her arm in his. She pursed her lips a little, her eyes sparkling. For some reason it seemed like a much bigger deal to her that they were walking out of the room like this together than the phone call she'd received earlier. "You know…" she trailed off, picking up the cream colored clutch she'd put her things in earlier from the sideboard near the door. She stepped out into the hallway, waiting for him to close the door before they walked off towards the elevator. "We never really did this in high school."

"We went to a dance."

"We didn't go to prom."

"Because we got drunk, remember?" Tim punched the elevator button, smiling down at her. What? She didn't…her eyes widened in remembrance. He laughed. "See? Now you remember, you had on that sparkling silver dress but we got wasted before and I couldn't drive and Billy was out with Mindy."

"Oh my God," she laughed, lifting her fingers to her forehead. She grinned stupidly. "I completely forgot. Well hey, I at least had the prom and homecoming dances with Jason to look back on as the more perfect high school moments." She smiled, softening slightly. "I got my little bad girl moments in with you."

Tim dropped his lips to hers, touching lightly. "You always ahd bad girl moments." He waited a second, whispering. "You just didn't care about them when you were with me."

I suppose I didn't, she thought, stepping into the elevator with him. She glanced up, hesitating slightly. Don't tell him about the GM thing. Not yet. She cleared her throat. "So Jeff Ellison called me. Figured I'd give you the heads up…" she trailed off, looking up and fixating on the little yellow lights at the top of the elevator door, dinging down as they descended. She softened her voice, hoping this wouldn't set him off for the evening. "Melanie and Jeff are engaged." Let the craziness begin, she figured, slowly rolling her eyes up to him.

He said nothing; the door opened and they walked out together, arm and arm, going outside to stand at the curb for their car, which arrived a moment later. She lifted the train of her dress a little, climbing into the back of the towncar and waited until he settled beside her. They still hadn't said a word, even halfway through the drive to the gala, which was being held at the Natural History Museum. She glanced sideways, reaching to dust her fingertips over the palm of his hand. "Say something," she murmured, glancing out the window. It was beginning to get dark. This was it, she figured. He'd panic before they even got there because his ex-girlfriend was engaged to a guy she just met a month before.

Then there was the idea that he was in a monkey suit getup which he hated, he was uncomfortable to begin with, and now they were going straight into the lion's den, with more than one fork at the table and three different glasses and they didn't serve the beer in bottles. There'd be food he didn't like and…this was a mistake, she thought. They could have all the fun in the world at the Empire State Building and the Statue of Liberty and wander through Central Park and even see a Broadway musical. The second he got within the same vicinity as her colleagues and the celebrities and…he was going to hightail it out of there.

I shouldn't have done this. She turned towards him, but he just smiled, shaking his head a little. "Wow, Melanie's engaged…better him than me. He's better for her." He looked out the window, frowning. "You didn't say this was at a museum."

"It's at a museum but you don't need to learn, there won't be a test." She moved over him to the curbside door, glancing at him again. She took his hand, squeezing and lifted it to her lips, kissing it before she brushed her lips over his cheek. I love you, please do this, she thought. She closed her eyes, whispering. "This is going to be a long night and I want you to know that I just…thank you for being here with me. If you're uncomfortable at all…I'm sorry, but this is my job and…and I have to do this and it's part of my life." There, she thought. That should be sufficient. He frowned slightly, but didn't say anything. She reached into her purse when they stopped at the side, dipping her finger into a small tub before she rubbed it against her teeth, grimacing.

"What are you doing?" Tim asked.

"Vaseline," she said, her teeth clenched and her lips not touching them. She growled out, scowling at him. "Keeps me smiling, watch."

The door opened just then and she stepped out, her lips permanently spread open over her teeth to keep smiling, waving and turning to Tim, who nervously stepped out behind her. She reached for him, taking his hand and leading him up onto the carpet, which wasn't red, but covered in large polka dots and bright patterns. She looked over at Clinton, who appeared magically behind her, wearing a little earbud and holding their tickets and a list of media outlets she got to speak with. "First one is ESPN, then Sports Illustrated, Extra and Entertainment Tonight are here, fluff questions only, Jeff has put it out there no talk about GM position," Clinton said, a machine.

Here we go, she thought, nodding and glancing around, giving him her purse. "Be careful with Tim," she warned, turning and approaching the first media booth. "Hi," she gushed, grinning at the sportscaster she recognized. She began to answer questions about their upcoming training camps and signing of a couple of free agents.

With every interview she gave, Tim walked slowly behind her, until they reached the fluff booths, as she called them, smiling politely at the overly made up entertainment cable news twig, who shoved the microphone into her face. "Lyla Garrity, the most well dressed of all the football executives here tonight, you know you are rivaling some of the other celebrities here tonight with how great you look!" the woman gushed.

I'll take that as a compliment, even though it is clearly a backhanded one, Lyla thought, the Vaseline wearing off on her teeth when she tried to smile. It didn't meet her eyes at all. "Yes well, this is a big night for the NFL and for the kids, you know we're all role models out there and we want to set good examples for kids who look up to us and who might otherwise not be able to play football, whether due tot heir medical condition or economic circumstance…" she was about to launch into the charity that she supported, a young girl's empowerment campaign, when the twig interrupted her.

"We hear that you're no longer with stud QB Vince Howard, in fact, Vince was here earlier with another woman, what do you say to that?" A fake look of concern went on the twig's face, which Lyla wanted to smack off.

She kept the fake smile on as best as she could. "Well I would say that it's wonderful Vince has a date for this evening and that I do not comment on my personal life," she said, keeping cool. Her eyes flashed. "Is that all?"

"Who did you bring to this event?" the twig glanced over her shoulder, grinning and waving. Tim just narrowed his eyes, his hands still in his pockets.

Lyla pursed her lips. "My personal life is none of the public's business, thank you." Tim stepped forward, albeit reluctantly, but she glanced at Clinton, who stepped in to end the interview. She reached for Tim, smiling and stepping up into the line of people entering the event, some of the football players, others celebrities, and some with just enough money to afford the vent that night. She passed their tickets over, going into the museum and walked on in, her arm still looped in Tim's. "Let's get drinks." It wasn't yet dinner time, so they'd just mingle, she figured.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and snagged a beer from the bar, giving it to Tim. "I can get my own drink," he snapped.

So it begins, she thought, glaring at him. "I'm sorry about that, but I told you it would be like that," she said.

"You didn't say my picture would be out there," he accused. He glared at her, mumbling and looked away. "Forget it."

Yes, forget it, she thought, drinking long from the glass. She set it aside and turned around to the bar. "Whiskey. Jack Daniels."

"You stressed?" Tim asked.

I'm not going to dignify that with a response, she thought, taking the glass from the bartender and sipped, walking out of the bar area and into the exhibition space. There was something with dinosaurs. She glanced up at a T-Rex skeleton, rolling her eyes and then looked over beyond Tim, smiling slightly. "You're going to have fun tonight," she said, standing back on her high heel, waiting for the motley crew to approach them. "Well hello there fellow Panthers."

"Are you going to cheer for us?" Jason asked, grinning up at her. His eyes widened. "Oh man! You got Riggins in a tux!"

"White tie and tails, I'm a master," Lyla drawled, glancing at Tim, who just tugged on the dinner jacket, slightly awkward again. She smiled at Smash, who was standing beside Jason's chair. "Well hello there Smash. Have you given more thought to my offer?"

"No work talk tonight," Smash said. He glanced down at a young boy who was standing beside him, an oxygen tank in a backpack he was wearing that had Smash on the back of it, along with the teal and orange colors of the Miami Dolphins. "I want you to meet my little buddy here, this is Maxwell. Maxwell, this is an old friend of mine, I played football with him and this is his…well this is Lyla."

"Hi," the little boy, who had to be about six, said shyly. He had on a Miami Dolphins baseball hat over his bald head and offered his hand to Tim, who took it delicately, shaking. "I'm Maxwell. I'm six."

"You gonna' play football Maxwell?" Tim asked.

"Yes."

"Well I can tell you're already better than Smash."

"He's my favorite player," Maxwell gushed. He looked up at her and smiled, showing off missing teeth. He was obviously sick, but looked to be having the time of his life, wearing a little tuxedo and shoes and clutching Smash's hand. "Do you play football?" he asked her.

Lyla grinned, looking around at the guys who were waiting on her response. She shrugged her shoulder, her voice quiet. "I run the football team." She smiled again, kneeling down to his height. She glanced up at Smash, who just nodded slightly at her and then looked straight at Maxwell. "I'm kind of the boss. I get to find the football players and bring them to the team. In fact…" she looked over at Jason. "This guy si a sports agent. I'm going to need a piece of paper and a pen there Street."

After a moment of fumbling in the pockets on the side of his wheelchair, she had a pen and a piece of paper, on which she wrote the date, her name, and Maxwell's name. She scribbled about how he was to be a member of any team in the National Football League and turned it towards him. "Sign here please," she directed, which he did, neatly printing his name. She scribbled hers and then handed it to Jason to witness. She folded it up and passed it to him, grinning. "Congratulations Maxwell, you've just been signed to any team in the NFL."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"As General Manager of the Dallas Cowboys, I grant it." I have no power at all, but he didn't need to know that. She just was happy to see a little boy's face light up, all happy and excited. She stood, smiling at Smash. "Have fun tonight, I'll catch you guys later." She stepped away, releasing a long breath and looking around. Lots of players had brought various kids to the event. That was kind of the point of it. She caught sight of Vince, speaking with some of the Raiders' players. He stepped aside and she grinned, seeing Jess Merriweather standing beside him in a stunning blue dress.

He caught her eye and lifted his drink towards her, a smile on his face. She lifted he drink in a silent salute, nodding towards Jess. They both just grinned, silently speaking. Congratulations, she told him, lifting her drink again and sipping. She shrugged at his quizzical look when Tim stepped beside her, smiling and laughing as Vince laughed too. "What are you doing?" Tim asked, frowning down at her. He chuckled, looking around. "This place is something."

It is something. She sipped her drink again. "It's definitely different from Dillon." In a good way, sometimes. In a bad way other times. She looked up at him; it felt like in the giant room, surrounded by people, it was only them. Tim had a way of doing that to her. "What?" she murmured, slowly lifting her eyes to his.

He stared down at her and then shook his head, whispering. "I'm never going to be okay in this…place," he said. He laughed, tugging a little at his white tie and then pulled at the dinner jacket. He sighed again, whispering. "But you are and…just promise me I can come in the back door next time and not get my picture taken?"

Next time? "Oh?" she asked.

"Well if you're gonna' be the General Manager of the Dallas Cowboys I think we're going to be coming a lot of these things, huh?" Tim asked. The smile he was poorly hiding was spreading across his face. He shook his head a little, whispering. "It's not that big of a deal Garrity. You should have told me. You slipped back there and…and it's kind of obvious."

It is, huh? She blinked a little, tears pricking her eyes. "I'm sorry…Jeff called me earlier and I didn't…I don't know, it's not official…"

"It is," he insisted. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, pulling her against him and whispered into her ear. "General Manager Lyla Garrity. I like the sound of that."

I kind of like it too, she thought, grinning up at him. She kissed his cheek, pulling on his arm. "Come on, let's get you some food. It's a benefit for football players, so there's gonna' be some good stuff. Meat and everything like that."

"Well that's something. How much was this thing any way?"

She frowned a little. "Um…promise you won't freak out?"

"Why would I freak out?" he asked, as they stepped into the room filled with tables and chairs, walking through to theirs. He paused, turning to glance down at her. "What?"

Lyla shrugged, glancing away. "um…fifteen-thousand." She patted his arm, pulling him to the table at the front where they were seated with a bunch of other Cowboys' players, along with Jeff and Melanie, who were already seated. Melanie waved at them, looking stunning in a pink ball gown. Tim waved back, but didn't seem affected at all by the giant engagement ring she was showing off to anyone who would look. Good for her, Lyla thought, turning back to Tim, her eyebrows lifting. "$15,000," she repeated.

Tim just stared down at her. She thought he was going to flip out, but he just stood his head, walking away from her to their table. "Thank God you've got the money. And by the way Garrity, if this thing is really this thing with us…" he trailed off, grinning and pulled her chair out. He swooped down, kissing her cheek and whispered in her ear. "I want my 10%."

"Oh you'll get your 10%."

Tim sat down beside her, picking up a fork. He turned to her, still holding up the fork. "Why are there four of these?"

"Just start on the outside and work your way in."

"This better be worth it."

Lyla smiled a little; she was in a pretty good mood now. Vince was with Jess, which was wonderful to see, she was pretty sure Smash and Jason were going to make a move on the contract, and well, she was going to be General Manager and Tim was okay with that. She released a long breath, slightly shaky. Things were definitely changing. She looked over at Jeff and Melanie, who were giggling together. Tim didn't give them one look as he frowned at the three spoons on the other side of his plate. She swallowed hard. They were doing this thing. There was no going back, that was for certain.

It was full steam ahead now, she thought, leaning in to engage Melanie in conversation, neither one of them making mention of the fact that Tim was now with her. It was like things had shifted the way they were supposed to always be, she thought, smiling wide and answering Melanie's question about her dress designer.


	13. The Fake

**13. The Fake**

Well that was fun, Tim thought, staring up at the ceiling of Lyla's penthouse apartment. He glanced sideways; she was sleeping with her mouth wide open on her pillow, drooling and snoring a little. Her hair was sticking up and fell over her face, with makeup smudged around her eyelids. "Hot," he said out loud, wanting to take a picture to preserve the moment. So he grabbed her cell phone and snapped a shot, making it her screensaver. There. That'd be fun in the morning.

He flopped back and continued to look up at the ceiling. They'd flown in later the night before from New York. It had been…interesting, he supposed was the best word for it. He glanced at her again. She'd been smooth, working the gala and laughing, knowing every single person's name, able to joke with anyone, and pretty much stabbing him in the heart every single time she knelt down to speak to one of the many kids who were in attendance.

If he didn't love her already, he'd fallen in love with her all over again when she'd written up the contract for that kid Smash brought with him, making him an official NFL player. He'd run into Jason later that evening. Jason had all but told him Smash was coming to Cowboys, but they were choosing the right moment for it. "This is about the GM thing," he'd deduced, staring straight at Six, who couldn't lie to him.

Jason nodded. "Yes. It's about the GM thing."

"You're waiting until they name her, to make it more legit or something, right? Image or whatever."

"You should work in sports management," Jason had only said, before launching into a story about Noah's prowess on the football field and how his daughter Lily was soon going to try out for the cross-country team.

So they were holding off to make her look legit, Tim could understand that, he guessed. In his opinion, Lyla would always look legit. He couldn't sleep. He crawled out of the bed, walking over and pulled on the pajama pants that Garrity had ripped off of him earlier. Psycho, he thought lovingly, dropping a kiss to her forehead. She grunted in her sleep, mumbled something about a contract, and rolled over. "Sexy," he said, leaving her to her contract dream, and left the room. He went downstairs, looking straight ahead through the open space at the bottom of the stairs straight through the living room to the wrap-around terrace. It wasn't Garrity, he thought, looking around. It was very…clean. And not in a cleanliness clean way, which he would expect of her house, but in a…modern and un-Garrity way.

Garrity was…window boxes and slanted ceilings and hardwood floors. Not black and white and metal. He sneered at the low couch, sinking down onto it and staring back out at the Dallas skyline. Her apartment building was in the middle of the downtown area, even though the Cowboys headquarters wasn't. If he was going to live here, he thought, glancing around, they'd have to find somewhere else, because this was crap. Not that they'd talked about living together. They hadn't even spoken about what happened after the gala.

They'd basically drank a lot, he'd managed to survive the whole thing, even though the food sucked, his tie was strangling him all night, and he didn't like making small talk with anyone. But he survived and he figured the next time he'd survive too. Suck it up for Garrity, he kept reciting to himself. It had been weird, sitting with Lyla when Melanie was right across from him with her fiancé, a billionaire who owned a football team. It was better suited for her, so it didn't bother him, it was just…weird.

They'd gone back to the hotel, stood in the elevator for all of five seconds before she'd flung herself at him and within minutes they door to the suite was closed, his fancy tux was on the floor and he got to see the bra and matching panty set she was wearing beneath her gown. It had been pretty crazy. They'd passed out immediately after they finished, a few hours after they began, and when he woke up the next morning, Lyla was fully dressed, had already eaten breakfast, and was hurrying him to get going because she had a few meetings and then she wanted to get to the airport.

So I guess we're not going to talk, Tim thought, looking back up at the stairs. She needed to sleep. Hell, she needed a break. Especially if she was going to become a GM. The talk had died away; she'd made a comment on the plane yesterday that Ryan had kind of backed down during his talk to her at the gala, that he might wait until after the season. Which she would prefer, but basically she was the heir apparent, whatever that was.

He leaned over the side of the couch, lifting his backpack up beside him. He reached into the front pocket, removing the little blue box. He opened it up and flicked open the pale blue crushed velvet box, peering down at the ring. It was just sitting there and hell…what was the money he hoarded away bit by bit every month? He had paid off his mortgage on the land, his loan on the house was almost gone, and he was still a hermit. He had money, more than people thought he did. "Stupid," he mumbled, staring down at the ring. He couldn't even take it back because he had no idea where to find a Tiffany's in Texas. If there even was one.

It was just there; while Garrity was getting her thing for her sister, he'd found the rings. Before he knew it, he was buying one. They didn't even know what they were doing and he bought an engagement ring. A diamond with two sapphires on either side on a platinum band.

"What are you doing down here?"

Tim jumped, shoving the ring into his backpack, turning to look over his shoulder. Lyla was in the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of water. She hadn't noticed him putting the damn thing away. "Ah…couldn't sleep. What about you?"

"Woke up to my phone buzzing. Thank you for that picture by the way." She dropped a kiss to his head. "I'm going back to bed." She went back upstairs without saying another word.

He fell back against the couch, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths. Just put it away, he thought, opening his eyes again. He heard footsteps on the stairs, rolling his eyes and sat up. "Garrity go back to bed, I'm…" he trailed off, frowning slightly and staring at the unfamiliar woman wearing a pair of khaki pants and a polo shirt. "Um…hello." It took him a second before he recognized her. Oh shit, how the hell could he have forgotten? "Jess."

"Hello," she said, smiling and waving awkwardly. She bit her lower lip. "Nice seeing you again Tim." She gestured towards him, stepping a little closer. "Well I mean, I saw you the other day at the gala thing, but I didn't think you saw me and I didn't want to make a big deal and wave and stuff, it was…a little weird."

I imagine it was. He narrowed his eyes slightly. So she took his advice. "You called Vince," he said, confirming the obvious. He smiled again, his voice quiet. "Good to know."

"I just…you called and since Lyla had been texting me, I thought that I might as well try to find him so I did and I'm helping him with his mom…" she trailed off, shrugging again. "It doesn't matter, I should get going, I have to get to my house in Arlington to change and then get to school."

He nodded slightly. He wondered if Becky knew about this. Hell, he wondered if Lyla knew about this, since they were in her house and all now. "Guess I'll let you go then." He shrugged. "You gotta' get to school and all."

"Yes, school." Jess laughed again, backing out towards the door. "Nice seeing you again."

"Later." Oh boy, Vince had some explaining to do, he thought, smiling. And plus, his matchmaking worked, so that was a first. He looked back up as footsteps padded down the stairs. And who was this now, he wondered, waiting expectedly, smiling at Vince. Who promptly jumped, grabbing hold of the banister to keep himself from falling. Tim waved. "Smooth."

"What the hell are you doing? What if I had a gun and shot you?"

"Then you probably would have missed." Tim nodded towards the stairs. "Besides, Garrity's gun is in her nightstand, she doesn't trust it anywhere else in the house."

Vince blinked. "I was kidding. She has a gun?"

Tim shrugged, looking at him like he was crazy. "She's Garrity, she's in Texas, of course she has a gun, the woman is crazy, and she goes shooting for stress release."

"I had no idea."

"Well she's been living in California for the last ten years, so you know whatever," he said, yawning. He should probably go check and make sure the thing was unloaded, although knowing Lyla it was cocked and ready to go. It was always a risk with her that she'd wake up in the middle of the night and decide she could live without him, but it was also a bit of a warning to him not to do anything she considered funny business. Billy once asked if it was her insurance policy on him if he went and cheated on her and all Lyla had said, dead serious at the dinner table, that yes, it was. Terrified Billy and Mindy that they didn't sleep at the house for a couple of days. He yawned again, walking into the kitchen and leaned against the counter, while Vince reached up into the cupboard for a glass. He narrowed his eyes. "So what's with Jess?"

Vince shrugged, pouring water from a pitcher into his glass. "She's a friend, she crashed in one of the guest rooms, we're not together."

"Could have fool me, she was sneaking out of here like I used to do."

"Well that's you," he said, putting the pitcher away, the fridge shaking a little with the force from which he shut the door. He glared across the kitchen at him, snatching up the glass. "What are you doing with Lyla anyway?"

Excuse me? Tim narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"She's going through a lot, what are you doing with her?"

I'm going to be here, that's what I'm doing, he thought, running his tongue over his teeth. His voice dropped and he looked away, knocking his knuckles against the counter. "Vince, I know you're friends with Lyla and all that now, but…just trust she's making the right decision. I love her and I'm not going to hurt her." If anything, the person who will be hurt the most in this is me, because that's usually how things shake out, he thought darkly. He looked back up again, Vince staring straight at him. He cleared his throat. "So I saw Jess sneaking out of here."

"You know what?" Vince set his glass in the sink, flashing a pearly white smile like he was in a toothpaste commercial. "It's really early in the morning and I gotta' get to the rehab hospital in a few hours so I'm going back to bed."

Tim smiled to himself, watching Vince hightail it back up the stairs. That'll show him, he thought, turning around and going upstairs. He went back into Lyla's room and crawled over her to get to his side of the bed, ignoring her grunt and kick. Shit, her nails were like knives, he thought, turning to look down at her as he crawled beneath the sheets. "Vince and Jess are back together," he said, sighing and looking up at the ceiling. "My work is done."

"Shut up and go to sleep."

"I think that if I'm gonna' live in Dallas you need a better place."

She opened one eye. "Live in Dallas?"

"Well not yet, but a five hour drive to Dillon every day is gonna' really cramp my working style. I don't think people want a contractor who hasn't slept and just got done with a five-hour drive." He kissed her forehead and patted her shoulder. "Night, night." He closed his eyes, opening one slowly a few minutes later and trying hard not to smile when he saw her peering down at him, propped up on her arm. Yes, he felt like saying, I am in this for the long haul. I will move here if you want.

Lyla narrowed her eyes, cocking her head slightly. Her hair fell over her face and she blew it out of the way, scowling. "So…you're in this thing? You want to live here?"

"Well not…not yet, but…soon." Really soon. Once he figured out what to do with his business. Maybe he'd pass it off to Luke; Luke had been rather aimless and he liked the work when it was there for him. He'd have to find a job out here. He wrinkled his nose, glancing up at her again. She was still staring down at him. "What?"

"You want to live here? In Dallas? Serious?"

"As a heart attack."

She continued staring, until suddenly a pillow was over his face. She was giggling, throwing it aside when he grabbed her around her waist, her feet kicking up beneath the covers. ""Stop it!" she screeched, laughing and punching him with the pillow again. "Tim! Come on, I have to wake up in three hours."

He glanced at the alarm clock; it was two in the morning. His eyes widened. "You wake up at five?!"

"To go for a run."

"Aw," he said, smiling and leaning down to kiss her, mumbling against her mouth. "I love my little circus freak."

"Shut up," she replied, kissing him again. She glanced at the clock and then back to him again, her hands slowly making their way up from where she'd had them around his waist to around his neck, lowering him back over her. "Well," she drawled, her nose brushing his. "If we're both awake…"

Circus freak, he thought again, lovingly. He rolled onto his back, his arms tightening around her. A few minutes later, she broke away from him, her forehead still touching his. What, he wondered, linking his wrists together around her hips. "What are you thinking?" he asked, his voice soft. He cocked his head a little. There was something making its way across her face. Like she was confused. He frowned, his nose brushing hers again. "What's wrong?"

She shrugged her shoulder, her lips pulling under her teeth for a moment. She took a deep breath, her eyes fixated on his. He reached up, brushing her hair behind her ear, his fingertips skimming over her cheek and down to her shoulder. After another moment, she spoke, her voice trembling. "You know this is it, don't you? This is the last chance Tim. You survived a weekend in New York and…and it was amazing, but you were uncomfortable and you didn't like the people and you tolerated it, but…but that's one weekend. I'm not going to ask you for anything other than what you can give, but…but you have to put up with some of this. You can't decide after a week in Dallas that you don't like it and you want to go home. This is it. I don't want a long distance relationship."

Who said anything about long distance? He sat back a little on his elbows, as she rocked back onto her knees, her hands going to her thighs, still staring at him. This is an odd conversation to have in the middle of the night after joking around, but alright then. He narrowed his gaze on her. "I want to be here," he whispered. What do you want me to do to show that to you? He frowned again. I've done everything you've asked, Garrity. What more do you want? "What do you want?"

"I want you," she laughed.

Seems like you want…seems like you're finding other reasons. "You're looking for an excuse," he said, climbing out of the bed. She turned around, glaring at him. Don't get mad at me. He opened up the door, leaning back against it. "You want a reason for me to go."

"I don't!"

"Yes you do Garrity. Stop looking for an excuse, I'm here, I don't want to go to your stupid gala things but I will. The thing is, is you have to give me something too." That was always their problem. She never understood how much he hated pretending to be someone else or do something he didn't want to do. And yes, maybe he purposefully ruined some things for her because he was mad about being there. Either way, they both screwed up big time and he wasn't about to get involved in this crap again.

So he left the room, went straight downstairs, not caring that Vince was probably eavesdropping on the entire thing, and grabbed his backpack from the couch. "What the hell are you doing?" Lyla demanded, standing on the other side of the couch. She flicked on a light, which sent stabs of pain into his eyes at the sudden transition from total darkness, and she slammed her hand on the back of the couch. "Tim!"

He grabbed the bag, yanking it open and whipped out the blue box, tossing it towards her. She caught it one-handed, lowering the box towards her and staring at it. "You want to know if I'm serious about this? If I'm going to run off or something? That's what I bought at Tiffany's, that's what I wouldn't show you. I'm not giving it to you if you keep this crap up because I'll drive right back to Dillon and we'll never give this another go again." He took a deep breath, his voice dropping. "I'll find another Melanie, you know?"

That wasn't fair, but…hell, what she was doing to him wasn't fair. Say something, he silently begged, watching her look at the ring, her fingertips touching her lips. She smiled, nibbling her bottom lip. She dropped her hand to the other side of the box, looking up at him and smiling again. "Wow," she whispered. She shook her head, looking back at him and grinning. "This is really something."

"It's just a ring."

Lyla picked the ring up out of the blue velvet, setting the box on the top of the couch again. She slipped it onto her left hand, holding it forward and studying it. She looked back at him, dead serious. "It's a little small."

He laughed, scrubbing his face and shook his head. Oh my God. After a moment, he launched over the top of the couch, grabbing her as she squealed, trying to run off. He spun her around a few times, before she kissed him first, her fingers diving into his hair. When they broke away for air, he shook his head, whispering. "It's not an engagement ring right now. Not until you want it to be."

"I know."

"Stick it on a chain or something."

"I know," she repeated. She kissed him again, dropping back to her feet. After another moment, she smiled wide. "I'm sorry, I just…this is so new for me…and I guess I just am trying to…to reconcile…" she trailed off, smiling again at his quizzical look. "Ah…put together, um, put together old Lyla and old Tim with…" she gestured towards him with both hands, whispering and smiling softly. "New Lyla and New Tim."

He shrugged, leaning against the staircase, his voice quiet. "I'm not that new."

"Yeah, you are, because…" she trailed off again and stepped towards him, kissing him again and wrapping her arms around his neck, rising up on her toes again. "Because old Tim would never have lasted this past weekend without completely spazzing out and old Tim wouldn't have bought me a ring and used it to convince me to stop freaking out, but…but old Lyla would have gotten mad at him within seconds anyway," she said. She cocked her head, whispering again. "But old Lyla and new Lyla still love old Tim and new Tim more than anything in the world."

That's the first time you've said that, he thought, kissing her softly. He let go of her, not commenting on it and waited as she ran upstairs. A few minutes later, she was back, wearing running gear. The ring was now on a chain around her neck, which she tucked beneath the top of her tank top. "Go get ready," she ordered, picking up her phone and attaching a set of headphones into the top. "We're going for a run. Five miles."

Five miles? Good God, it'd been forever since he'd run that much without someone chasing him. He grumbled, trudging up to his room and walking by Vince, who was just laughing at him. Whatever, he thought, pulling on running shorts and a muscle tee, somehow bringing himself back downstairs, fatigue beginning to settle in. "Do we have to do this?" he grumbled, following her out of the apartment and into the elevator, descending to the lobby. He managed to make it out onto the sidewalk, slumping against her and wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she began to stretch.

She glanced over her shoulder, smiling slowly. "Come on, I'll race you."

"No racing," he mumbled into her neck. That was the last thing he wanted to do right now. He wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe call Tyra and hang up a few times just to piss her off. Maybe do the same thing with Billy. That'd be fun. If he was up this early then

"It'll be fun. If you win we can do anything you want…hey!"

He took off running down the sidewalk, glancing over his shoulder and laughing. "Come and get me!" he yelled, sprinting across the street into a park beside her building, hearing her footsteps behind him until she caught up, falling step for step beside him.


	14. The Carry

**A/N: **Thanks so much for the reviews guys! :) They're greatly appreciated. I promise this story will kind of all come together, it's just going to be a few more chapters. Enjoy!

* * *

**14. The Carry**

"So what's going on with you guys?"

Nothing is going on with us, Lyla thought, rocking slowly beside Vince on the swing hanging from his mother's front porch. She shrugged, watching Regina fiddle with some succulents, placing them into various pots and planters on a table out behind the house. She narrowed her eyes a little, seeing how healthy Regina looked. "How's your mom?"

"Fine, better now. Rehab always makes her better and then…well we'll see." Vince hit his head against the back of the swing, moving his foot back and forth on the wide planked porch. He stared up at the rafters, his voice quiet. "I'm going to commute from Oakland. Do my time and stuff there and then stay here. Becky's gonna' be her nurse."

Did Becky have training in being a nurse to a drug addict and alcho…well maybe she did, since she was practically Tim's caregiver when he got into a mood when he couldn't seem to tie his shoes without help. She was kind and patient, two qualities necessary for a caregiver. "Well that sounds like a good thing…" she trailed off, her eyebrow arching slightly. She tried to keep the 'scandalous' factor out of her voice. "What about Jess?"

"What about her?"

She nudged her shoulder into his. "Come on, I know she was sneaking out of my apartment earlier this month, after New York." It had been about a month since the gala, which seemed to be the weekend when everything changed, cliché as that was. She reached up to her neck, dragging the engagement ring around on the silver chain. It had become a piece of her these last few weeks; she never took it off.

Vince shrugged again, his hands in the pockets of his hoodie. How he was wearing a hoodie when it was a zillion degrees out was beyond her. It might have been getting cooler as the sun set, but still. "We're friends, Lyla. Just friends. She's dating someone."

What? That wasn't right. She scowled. "Huh?"

He glanced towards her, shrugging again and smiling slightly, his voice quiet. "It doesn't always work out the way you and Tim worked out, Lyla. We're going to be friends and if one day it becomes something else, then fine, but for now we're just friends. She's going to check on Regina while I'm gone and…and we text now and then, but that's all it's going to be."

Well at least you guys seemed to have talked about it. Still. She would have preferred the other thing. She tapped at his elbow. "You need a woman. If that didn't work out, I'll have to go into my stash of Vanderbilt friends and they're all sluts."

"You could try not setting me up, that would be preferable to me."

"I like that you think you have a choice in the matter," Lyla said, getting off the porch swing. She called out to Regina. "I'm going to Tyra Collette's wedding, do you want to come with me Regina? It's going to be fun, drunk Riggins and Collette family members trying to dance."

Regina laughed, waving her hand. "No but thank you Lyla! You go have fun."

"Well it's open to all, so drop by if you want some company." She turned around, smiling up at Vince. Maybe she could convince him to come. He could find some company for the night. "Come with me. It'll be fun. Tyra Collette is marrying Landry Clarke, that alone requires witness."

Vince shook his head. "Naw, I'm gonna' hang with my mom. You go have fun. Training camp starts next week, right? You're going to get busy."

How could it get any busier, she wondered, smiling again at him. "Fine." She kissed his cheek. "Love you. I'll see you later." She left him on the porch, walking through the house and out to her Audi, which was covered in dust from the various drives she'd been making back and forth from Dallas to Dillon in the last four weeks. She hopped into the front seat, drove to Tim's house, and ran through the shower quickly, selecting a sundress to wear to the evening wedding and reception. By the time she was dressed and ready to go, Tim was wandering in from wherever he'd been. "Come on! Get showered and get dressed, we're going to be late."

"We're not going to be late," he said. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "I brought someone with me."

Lyla glanced over, smiling wide at Smash, who was wearing a shiny silver suit with a bright teal tie, to match the gaudy Super Bowl ring he wore on his hand. "Well hello there Smash. Nice to see you. That's a nice…ring."

"Well you know, gotta' show it off," he said, flashing it to her again. It was practically blinding. He turned around, gesturing to a couple of kids she didn't notice were sitting in the living room, playing with a travel toy of what she thought looked like Hungry Hungry Hippos. "Hope you don't mind, brought some of my favorite pals around."

"It's Tim's house," she said; she didn't mind. She walked over to the kids, smiling down at a little girl that peered up, looking identical to Smash and then the young boy she recognized as Maxwell. "Hey," she laughed, offering her hand to him. "How is my new recruit coming along? You know training camp started two weeks ago, how come I didn't see you?"

Maxwell adjusted the oxygen tube in his nose, giggling. "I was in the hospital." He poked at the tube. "Getting' a new tube." He frowned when the little girl smacked her hand on the Hungry hippo lever, sending the large hippo mouth over the last few balls in the little container. "Hey! Not fair, I wasn't looking!"

"Snooze you lose." She looked up, her dark hair pulled back into a little braid. She offered her hand. "Hi. I'm Laney. That's short for Elena."

Smash gestured between the little girl to her. "Laney's my daughter."

Oh holy crap, she thought, her eyes widening. She knew he had a daughter, but didn't think she'd ever meet her. The way Smash had vaguely mentioned her, she got the impression that he didn't see her a lot and certainly didn't want her in the public's eye or knowledge. Yet here she was, smiling up at her with big dark eyes and wearing a little purple party dress. She laughed a little, taking Laney's hand and shaking it loosely. "Well nice to meet you Laney. Are you having fun with your dad?"

"Uh-huh."

That's about all I'm going to get out of her, she supposed. She straightened back up, smoothing out her skirt and wagging her finger at Smash. "You didn't want to tell me that you were bringing your daughter with you? I was going to talk shop, now I know better." She turned around in the kitchen, to joke a little more with him, when she stopped, watching him remove the blue-backed document from his inner suit jacket pocket. She frowned slightly, her voice soft. "What's that?"

Very obviously, Smash took the pen he'd removed with it, and went to the end of the document, scribbling his signature. He lifted it back up and turned it around to her, his voice soft. "I gave Miami the notice last week that I was not going to be taking them up on their contract renewal and that I would be joining the Dallas Cowboys for this upcoming season." He smiled quickly. "We were going to wait on you to be GM, but seems like they're gonna' wait until Draft Day for that."

That was the talk she was getting from the Ellison brothers. They were going to finish this season and let a new GM take over before Draft Day. That way that GM could pick the team they wanted and do their own orchestrations. She pursed her lips a little, glancing at the contract. She turned it towards her and then back to him again. "This isn't legally binding until it's been witnessed and notorized. Besides, you're going to have to do the whole ceremonial thing too, with the fake contract and photographers."

He shrugged, smiling at her. "The Smash just signed with the Dallas Cowboys. Ain't no more ceremonial than that."

"Daddy ain't ain't a word cause' it ain't in the dictionary," Laney said, wandering up beside him. She climbed up into the chair next to the counter. "What's that?"

"Daddy Smash's contract little sweets, get down from there, you don't want to hurt yourself, here you go." He lifted her up, setting her back down on the floor. He reached around to Maxwell, who was curious at what was happening. "Here you go Quarterback, a real contract."

"My contract doesn't look like that."

Lyla quirked her lip, her voice soft. "Tell you what? You come to the headquarters tomorrow and I'll get you a contract." Where were Maxwell's parents, she wondered, watching him walk away from them, after Laney into the living room. She glanced back at Smash, her eyes narrowed, silently inquiring. When he didn't get it, she just asked. "Where's his parents?"

The question seemed to knock him off guard. "Ah…" he glanced over to the kids and then back to her, his eyes darting sideways when Tim walked in, holding out his tie. He frowned. "Riggins you can't tie a damn tie? What kind of man are you?"

"I'm plenty man."

"Who likes it when his girlfriend…" Lyla drawled, tugging on the ends of the tie. She finished, patting the neat knot she'd pushed it up into. "Does his tie for him. Speaking of ties, why the hell are you wearing a tie to Tyra's wedding? She knows you don't dress up."

"Yeah but Angela put the word out that if Billy and I don't look nice she'll smother us both." Tim paused, shuddering. "I don't want to think how. You ready to go?"

I still don't have an answer to my question about Smash's little shadow, she thought, smiling down at Maxwell, who appeared at his side again. She tapped at his backpack. "We'll need to get you a Dallas Cowboys one. First thing on the agenda when we get to the training center."

"Okay," he giggled, taking one of Smash's hands while Laney took the other, both of htem chattering off his ear a mile a minute, leaving the house together. She assumed there was some sort of fancy SUV limo waiting outside for Smash, but she was content to take Tim's truck, turning on her heel and smiled up at him. "Well that's surreal."

"I'll say." He kissed her lightly, cocking his head and looping his arms around her waist. "How many kids do you want?"

Kids? Her eyes widened. "Um…I don't…I don't know." Were they talking about kids now? They weren't even on the same page with where they were going to live in Dallas. The general consensus was that once they figured out a place where Tim could survive in Dallas they'd move in together and just go from there and figure things out as they fell. Whether that was marriage or whatever. Kids never factored into the talk.

Tim kissed her again, patting her shoulder. "Think about it. I want one of each at least, think you can make that happen?"

She grabbed her bag, following him out of the house, frowning slightly and then smiled up at him, her brow still wrinkled as he opened up the door to his old black truck, which had been brought out for the special occasion. "You realize that the whole boy and girl thing is decided by the guy, right? It's an X and Y chromosome thing and only guys have Y chromosomes."

He frowned, slamming the door and leaned his forearms on it. "What's a chromosome?"

She hit her head back against the seat, closing her eyes and groaning when he laughed, getting into the driver's side. "I knew you didn't really get that B in Biology." She smacked his shoulder, idly glancing down at the blue contract she was still holding. She unfolded it, staring down at the tiny legal print. It was practically burned into her memory. She knew this contract more than any of the others she'd been reviewing and working on.

Beside her, Tim nudged at her elbow with his. He smiled slightly, his voice quiet. "What's going on in that head of yours Garrity? Smash sign his contract?"

He signed his contract and he had no idea what it really was. Neither did Jason, who had no doubt been through this thing with a fine-toothed comb. It had everything in it. It was perfect. It was a five-year contract with option for extension and…she took a deep breath, closing her eyes and whispering. "This is my first contract." She opened them, when Tim didn't say anything. He didn't know what that was. Her voice was thick, as tears began to trickle down her cheeks. She moved the contract out of the way. It wasn't even real yet, it needed to be resigned in the presence of a notary. It didn't matter though. It was the symbolism for her.

A few minutes of silence passed; until Tim reached over and took her left hand, kissing her knuckles, squeezing them hard. "Congratulations General Manager Garrity."

Yes, she thought, giggling slightly. This was definitely going to be the validation for her getting that job. Just another football season to go, she thought, smiling wide at Tim. She leaned over in the front seat, kissing his cheek. "Smash has no idea how much I love him right now."

"What about me?"

"Until you start having adorable little girls that talk like they're adults and carrying around cancer-ridden children who idolize you and win Super Bowls and sign my first contract as a bonafide real football player for my real football team, you will not be able to compete with Smash Williams, not right now," she sang, kissing him again.

Tim arched an eyebrow, glancing sideways. He parked the car in the parking lot of the church, smiling sideways at her again. "Yes but…" he trailed off, waiting for the punchline. He turned his head a little, his voice quiet. "Smash can't give you those five kids that we're going to have that will form my offensive line."

"We are not having five kids! And they are not going to be big enough to be your O-line."

"So you say."

This was a positively inane conversation but in Lyla's opinion those were sometimes the absolute best ones to have with Tim, especially when he was as happy as he was this evening. She laughed. "I will have you neutered before we have five kids!" She climbed out of the truck, stopping hard in her tracks and smiling, slightly stupid. "Hi Daddy." Well this wasn't awkward at all.

Buddy narrowed his eyes, rolling them from her to Tim and then back to her again. "Are you pregnant?" he demanded. His eyes widened slightly. "Before marriage!"

Oh good Lord, Buddy was such a hypocrite, she knew for damn certain that her parents got married only five months before she was born. "No Daddy, I'm not pregnant." She glanced at her sundress, which unfortunately had a bit of an empire waist, thereby making her look pregnant. She snapped her fingers beneath his nose, as he glared down at her stomach again, accusing. "I'm not pregnant! And we're not getting married." His eyes went from her stomach to the ring around her neck. Aw shit, she thought, smirking at him and shook her head. "We're not engaged, I'm not getting into it now. Let's go see Tyra and Landry get married. And it's in a church! Well that's…interesting for Tyra, the atheist."

"She's doing it for her mom and for Landry's family, besides, she yelled at me yesterday that it's her day damnit, she gets to do what she wants, so she's not wearing a white dress." Tim linked his arm with hers, waving at Buddy, who still didn't seem to believe them about her non-pregnancy. He leaned in, whispering. "Are you going to have to get a doctor's note for your dad or something?"

Probably. She accepted a program from Stevie, who was serving as an usher and was popping gum. She reached into her bag, removed a Kleenex, and held it out. "Spit."

Stevie rolled his eyes. "You're no fun Lyla." He spit the gum out and she tossed it into a trashcan, scowling at him. He rolled his eyes again, mumbling. "Sorry. Hey, when can we come to the training center? We're moving to Dallas in like a month and Dad says we can't see it yet."

"You'll see it soon, maybe even in time for the first game of the season, you can sit in my club box." She tossed her hair out of her eyes, walking into the chapel, waving at Tami and Eric, who were seated up at the front of the church. She took Tim's hand, walking around the side to take the pew behind them. He let go of her and slid out before she even had a chance to get settled. She frowned. "Where are you going?"

"I gotta' go talk to Tyra."

Tami turned in her seat, warning him with a look and a firm tone. "You upset her and I will find you Tim. She's nervous enough as it is, I don't want you going back there and changing her mind in any way, shape, or form, do you understand me young man?"

Tim's eyes widened a little and he gulped. "Yes ma'am." He glanced down at her and then pressed a quick kiss to her lips. "Love you. Be right back." She watched him leave, going down the side of the church and disappearing around the corner. She smiled slightly; that was nice of him to do that. Not that she felt jealous around him with Tyra anymore. It was a long time ago, they'd gone through too much for her to waste emotions on feeling jealous of his odd relationship with his sister-in-law.

She fiddled with the program, wrapping it up into a tube and unfurling it, looking up when she felt fingertips tapping lightly on the pew. She smiled warmly; Mrs. Taylor was leaning over the top of the pew, smiling at her. "How was your flight in from Pennsylvania?" she asked, shifting slightly. She frowned slightly. "You're still there right, you haven't moved in the last two months?"

Tami shook her head, chuckling. "No, we're still there. Probably will be for a few more years." She paused, reaching forward and twisted the ring around to that the sapphires were pointed upward. "Beautiful ring," she murmured. The light filtering from the skylights danced across the diamonds, making Tami's eyes twinkle. She arched an eyebrow. "It's not really your left hand, now is it?"

Well it's not really an engagement ring just yet, she thought, touching the ring and settling it beneath the front of her sundress. She smiled politely. "It's just a promise ring for now. We're not really ready for marriage." She cleared her throat, looking around. "So where are the twins? I'd love to meet Lori and Henry."

That had Coach leaning over the pew. "They're ringbearer and flower girl, hey, Tami, how long do you think this is gonna' be, because Buddy was going to…" he trailed off at the look he got, moving back around to face the front of the church, watching as Landry came up onto the altar. "Nevermind," he mumbled. He chuckled. "Lance looks like he's going ot have a heart attack."

"Stop acting so gleeful," Tami chided. She smiled again at Lyla. "Well it's good seeing you honey. Just keep on Tim, don't let that promise ring become a forever ring."

I will, she thought, smiling and lifting her head when Tim came in, walking over the people who had taken a seat beside them. She reached over and squeezed his hand. "I love you," she whispered, kissing his cheek and rubbing at the lipstick mark it left. She kept their hands together, looking up when the music began, watching with a wide smile at the little Mini-Matt Saracens walking down the aisle, both with pale blond hair and shy smiles, scattering rose petals and proudly holding up the pillow with the rings. She leaned against Tim, whispering. "Mindy's dress is pretty."

"Tyra wouldn't let her have the one that had wings."

"Well that was classy." She smirked when he poked her ribs, tossing her bangs from her eyes and watching as Julie followed Mindy and Billy down the aisle, her arm looped with Matt's, both of them glowing. Pretty, she thought, smiling at Julie; they weren't very close, but she looked forward to chatting with her a bit at the reception. She stood up, turning her head and watching, her eyes widening at Tyra. "Wow."

"I know," Tim said, slightly awed. "She didn't look that pretty in the back."

"Her dress." It wasn't white, that was for sure. Tyra was walking down the aisle, holding white roses, her arm through her mom's, and wearing a black dress. She grinned, her hair pulled back from her face, almost as black as the dress. She smirked when she passed their pew, narrowing her eyes at Tim, mouthing the words 'shut up.' She frowned, glancing up at him. "What was that for?" she whispered.

Tim smiled. "Inside joke." He sat down beside her, taking her hand back into his and leaned in, whispering. "You want to get married here one day?"

Lyla looked back at the altar; she'd spent many, many days here as a child. It had occurred to her with Jason. Get married in her family church, where she went to Sunday School and was baptized. The first time, she thought with a little smirk. She reached up, touching the engagement ring on the necklace. She didn't want to do things like how she'd planned originally. If they got married…she'd like it to be outside, maybe out on his land, beneath a tree or something. Instead of saying that, however, she simply shrugged, speaking with a soft voice. "I just want to get through the next few months. Let's see if I can do that, then we'll talk about wedding venues." Let's get engaged first. She squeezed his hand, smiling up at the couple beginning to exchange their vows. They were so mismatched but it all seemed to work. Her gaze darted to Smash, who was sitting on Landry's side, a kid on either side of him. Jason was in the back of the church, so he could get out easier, and then there was Tim, she thought, her gaze falling on him again. She rested her head on his shoulder, turning her attention back to the happy couple. Her hand squeezed over her purse, where the contract was folded up, neat and secure. Things were really looking up, but for now she was just going to savor.


	15. The Running Back

**A/N: **Sorry for the delay. Enjoy :)

* * *

**15. The Running Back**

"I hate press conferences," Lyla mumbled, handing one of the AV tech guys her tiny microphone. She glanced through the door into the pressroom, where everyone was still talking, fixing their cameras, and checking their Dictaphones. She thanked the AV tech, turning away and walking out into a separate hallway, Clinton at her side like always. She passed him her jacket and took her folder from him, flicking it open. "So that one is done and out of the way, do we have any more today?"

"ESPN one-on-one on the indoor field in five minutes, change your blouse, you spilled coffee on it."

She glanced down, her mouth falling open in horror at the obvious coffee stain on her white blouse. "Oh my God! You didn't want to mention that to me before I went into a forty-five minute press conference with the national media!?" It was shit like this where she could just bean the little man clear to the Gulf of Mexico.

Clinton shrugged, already handing her a new blazer to cover up the stain. "Your hair was hiding most of it."

"So for some of the 45 minutes I'll just look like a slob," she mumbled, dabbing at it with the wet paper towel he also passed her. She sighed at him, shaking her head and passed him back some of the papers from her folder. "What would I do without you Clinton?" That was mostly sarcasm, she thought, when he just smirked at her, but said nothing. They both knew she'd probably still be attempting to figure out where the Oakland Raiders main offices were. He'd pointed her in the direction on her first day there as a law student intern and they'd been together ever since.

He handed her a pink message. "No urgent calls, but Mr. Riggins decided to blow up my phone for about an hour. He kept texting SOSB." He narrowed his eyes. "Is that a Texas thing I just don't understand yet?"

Oh shit, she thought, grabbing the phone. "SOSB means Help, it's Buddy," she translated. It was a way for him to basically get to her and let her know her father had done something absolutely psychotic. She pushed her fingertips into her forehead, listening to it ring as they walked down the hallway towards the indoor field; the team was out on the outdoor one today. Smash would be joining them shortly, mostly for staged photographs, after his little introduction press conference a moment before. I don't need my dad's problems interfering in a very busy, very frantic day at work. It rang a few more times and she got Tim's voicemail.

_Riggins. Speak. Now._

"Tim change your stupid message, why are you texting SOSB? What did Buddy do? Call me, I'm filming an interview in a few minutes. Now." She hung up, handing her phone back to Clinton. Alright, let's do this, she thought, putting on the new blazer. She tugged it down, freshened her lipsticks, fluffed her hair, and waltzed into the indoor arena, offering her hand to the sports caster. "John, so good to see you again," she greeted, forcing her voice deeper. At the end of the day Clinton better have a large glass of hot lemon water waiting for me.

"Good to see you too Lyla, good press conference, hit allt he right notes, hope you don't mind, but I'd like to go a little deeper," John, one of the main ESPN commentators for the Dallas Cowboys, said. He took a seat in the chair set up for him, gesturing for her.

She sat down in the director's chair, adjusting her blazer as a PA fussed with her hair, makeup, and attached a microphone. She crossed her legs, her hands folded over her folder. "Let's get started," she said, grinning.

About twenty minutes later, the interview ended and she went on to a few more. Her phone didn't ring or buzz once according to Clinton. What the hell Tim, she wondered, finally walking into her office at the end of the day. She threw her papers down, snatching up her office phone when it began to ring. "Lyla Garrity." She waved off Clinton, who was in her doorway, waving angrily at her because she answered the phone before he had a chance to screen it.

"Okay so don't get mad at me."

Lyla closed her eyes and took three calming breaths. She slowly opened them, fixating on her MBA and JD degrees on the wall. Just read the letters, keep your mind occupied, she chanted to herself, as she read each letter, putting together the words in the frames while she spoke, calmly. "What did you do?"

"I didn't do it. Your dad did it!"

Either way one of them was probably in jail and neither could afford more to their respective records. She closed her eyes again. "What did you do?" she repeated. She'd keep repeating it until she got an answer.

Tim groaned. "He bought us a house."

"WHAT!?" she screamed. Clinton barged into the office, his eyes wide and staring. There were a few people waiting outside her office. Chief of Executive Staff, a couple other VPs, and the PR department. She waved him off, turning around to stare down at the team on the field below, conducting their training drills. Smash was patrolling the sidelines, with little Maxwell at his side. She still wanted an answer on that. Right now hse needed an answer on what Tim had just said. "What do you mean he bought us a house?"

"So we were in Highland Park and all we were doing was looking at the house that you found and then before I knew it Buddy was buying the damn thing. I didn't even know he had money. I also think he forged your signature and we may have committed a couple of forms of mortgage fraud, but…" Tim trailed off, his voice kind of getting high and squeaky. "It's a really nice house."

I don't care if it's a really nice house. Her realtor had been scouring the area, but Tim was pickier than a child with vegetables, every single house had something wrong with it. She was getting ready to wrap it all up, tell him to stay in Dillon and they'd call this whole thing a test run and they were over, but he said he just had to find one with the quality in a house that made it a house. Whatever that meant.

This one he'd given the seal of approval on, which she thought he might, since it was one of the oldest homes on the market at the moment, but it was also going in the millions. Tim had shown no interest at all in her financial affairs, only stating he expected a check now that they were together, which she was fine with because that was the deal from high school, and he didn't mind being 'kept' he stated. So long as he could work for his own money and buy his own clothes and stuff.

Which was fine with her, because the few shirts she'd bought for him to replace the worn and holey ones were still hanging in the closet with tags. In any case, they bought the house already!? "Did you get an inspector to at least check it?" she demanded.

"I don't think so."

"Buddy bought it? What did he put up for it?"

"Okay, so that's the thing, I went out to answer my phone and it was Jason and he had a lot to talk about, so we were talking…"

Tim was stalling. Never a good thing. She grit her teeth. "Don't protect my father."

"Lyla, I don't get involved with you and your dad."

Too damn bad you're going to be stuck in the middle like a kid with divorced parents, she wanted to scream at him. She'd make him talk to Buddy so long as she didn't have to if that's what it took, but right now she needed answers. "Where is Buddy now?"

"I don't know, I think he went back to Dillon."

"Tim!"

"Look it's all going to work out, just let me handle it, thought you outta' know." He sighed, his voice softening. "Garrity. We have a house."

Yes, we have a house, but…she closed her eyes, unable to stop the smile from tugging on her lips. She tossed her bangs from her eyes, glancing down at the toes of her bright Cowboys blue Celine pumps. She had such an obsession for designer shoes nowadays. She flicked the toe of one shoe into the carpet, ducking her head a little, feeling like a stupid, shy girl on her first day of school. "We got a house, huh? You and me?"

Tim cleared his throat rather obviously. He seemed to giggle. "Um, yeah, I know. We got a house. How great is that? Just us."

Oh what the hell now, she wondered, closing her eyes. All she had to do was clear her throat and Tim sighed hard again. "Well, you know how the house has that tiny house behind it?"

"The guest house."

"Yeah, well I might have said that Billy could crash there. Just until the twins finish high school."

That was two years, she wanted to scream. She'd heard that that was how Billy was planning on working things out with Mindy. Mindy didn't want to quit her job and move without so much as a few weeks to plan, so they'd decided to keep the kids in school and move when they were all done. Then it was, oh well when they were done with middle school. Which wouldn't be for another two years for the twins and Stevie was going to start high school, so no matter what someone was going to be starting fresh. "That guesthouse is going to be for guests. Hence the name. Not longterm live-in future brother-in-laws who have a tendency to destroy things."

"Billy just likes a party."

"I'll tell you what Billy better like, Billy better like sitting on a cold bleacher bench watching college football players run drills, that better be what he likes, in fact, he better like it right now, A&M is working out a new quarterback, he's on the first damn bus to College Station!" she ranted, pacing around her desk like a panther. She pushed her fingers through her hair, falling back to sit on the glass, which had several cracks running through it. Clinton had yet to find her a new one. Take deep breaths Garrity, there's still a long day ahead of you. "Okay, fine. I'm going to go. Thank you for sharing the information on my father, I will call the real estate agent and deal with it."

"Oh yeah, there's that escrow thing."

"Yes, there's that escrow thing and closing dates and all that, we probably still have time to fix this." She closed her eyes, speaking clearly. "Do not ever sign anything without me present again. Not even a credit card bill."

He chuckled. "You love me."

"Lord knows why." She picked up some mail that was left on her desk, flicking through and landed on a thick card of parchment. She whistled low under her breath. "Oh geez. I just got a wedding invitation."

"Who?"

She shook her head; this would be awkward. Hopefully it fell on a day that she'd have a lot of work to do. How do I say this, she wondered, nibbling her lower lip. It wasn't that she was worried Tim would be upset or would pull away from her, but…it was an ex, you know? Hell, she felt a little weird when Jason announced he was having a baby with someone else, even though her feelings for him had long since changed from love to…well a different love. "Well…" she trailed off again. Just do it Lyla, get it over with. "Jeff and Melanie."

"Oh." Yeah, oh. He was quiet for a second and then he seemed to nod, his voice crystal clear. "Good for them."

Good for them? "You're not upset?" she blurted. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to be upset or not. She thought on it for a moment. No, it'd be good if he wasn't upset. That was better for her, but even so…his ex-girlfriend was getting engaged and married less than three months after breaking up with him. She wondered if there was something else in the works to rush the wedding. Not that anyone cared about that sort of thing. She cleared her throat, looking back down at the lace invitation. "It's the weekend before the season starts. Do you think you might want to come? I know I have to. He is my boss."

"Yeah…yeah I'll go." Tim coughed a couple of times. "Changing subject now, Tyra and Landry are in town. She wants to see the place. Since Billy and all are going to be there too, thought we might make a family thing of it all. Sorry."

Don't apologize. It was her family now too. "They're my family too," she mumbled, in case he'd forgotten. It seemed weird still that they weren't quite together-together. Even though apparently they'd just bought a house. Well, her dad had just bought them a house.

"Yeah but you hate them."

"I do not hate them," she said. She tolerated them. There was a difference. They were rather exhausting. She sighed hard. "I'll see you at my place later, okay?"

"Not okay." His voice sounded a heck of a lot clearer. She frowned, turning around and her eyes lit up, grinning stupidly at the sight of him in the doorway. He shut his phone off, putting it in his back pocket. He smirked. "Thought I'd come give you an afternoon pick-me-up. You do have a busy day."

"The worst," she groaned, setting the phone away and walking towards him. She kissed him quickly, her eyes wide. "Hey! Smash is here with his little mini-me. I was going to grab something from the vending machines, but I'll have Clinton call this awesome diner across the street and see if they can ship something over."

"His mini-me? Oh, the kid, yeah," Tim said, nodding. "Huh, thought he'd be back by now. Must have…" he trailed off, his eyes darkening and then he quickly smiled. "So you want to talk to your dad now or after?"

"After?" Her voice kicked up at the end, wondering what he was talking about. Oh, she laughed, seeing the lecherous look in his eyes. No, no, no, we cannot possibly…she pushed at his chest, stepping back hard. "No. Not here. This is where I work."

"You have secret places around this place where we could go."

This was where his carefree attitude could really get her in trouble if she indulged in it, which usually she did, because she was a bad girl deep down in the pit of her stomach, and it was just something bad to do. Something like…like pulling a fire alarm, she thought, closing her eyes, her mouth falling open in a soft gasp as he found the spot behind her ear that drove her insane. No, no, no, she thought, running her hands over his back. "We can't do this," she murmured, as he pushed her back into the glass desktop. She gripped the edge of it, smiling to herself as he lifted her knee up, her high heel falling off. "Tim, no."

"Be bad Garrity."

I have glass walls, this was stupid, she felt like screaming. She pulled his face to hers, kissing him hard, and her hands going to the front of his button-down shirt, pulling at the front of it. She was about to pull him to her more private area, out of view of the frosted glass windows, when the door pushed open with a soft squeak, a loud voice calling out. "Well VP Garrity, my new boss, the Smash is…geez!"

Lyla pushed Tim away, almost sliding right off the edge of the desk, her eyes wide and staring at Smash, who had nudged Maxwell right out of the office. "Oh Jesus," she cursed, tugging at the front of her blouse. "Smash! You ever hear of knocking!?"

"Well your guard dog wasn't at the gate, I thought I'd just walk on in, should have realized with you two," Smash grumbled. He lifted his eyebrows. "Y'all done now? Can I bring in the kid?"

"We're fine," Tim said, adjusting the buttons on the front of his shirt. He smiled quickly at Maxwell. The presence of the little kid immediately changed is entire presence. "What's up O2?"

O2, Lyla wondered, until she looked at the oxygen tank on Maxwell's back. Oh holy damn, she thought, rubbing at her temples. She was getting a headache. She forced a smile. There was way too much work piling up, she had to figure out whatever was up with her father, the Riggins family as coming in to tour the damn place, and now she had Smash in her office with a little kid, after almost witnessing something that definitely wasn't G-rated. "How are you Maxwell?" she asked, walking over to him, inspecting his new Dallas Cowboys backpack. She grinned; he did make her smile. Little kids tended to do that to her. "Are you having fun? Did Smash give you a tour?"

"It's fun," Maxwell said. He took off the backpack, careful of the oxygen tube in his nose, with Smash helping a little and took out his napkin. "Can I get a real contract now?"

"Oh my goodness, I cannot believe I forgot, let's get that done." She walked to Clinton's desk, removing a blue-backing and went into her office, sitting down at her computer. "Let's see that contract young man. Come over here, you can sit with me and we'll type this bad boy up." She glanced at Tim and Smash, who were just smiling at her, Tim in particular seemed very proud. "This is going to take a second guys, why don't you go find something to do?"

"We'll stay," Smash said, walking over to the conference table. "Let's check out some game film."

"I want to look at that game with you and the Saints last year because you played like you were in a wheelchair. What the hell was that?" Tim demanded, setting up the video to play on one of the four televisions installed on her wall.

I'll just let them…do their thing, she supposed, typing up Maxwell's contract. It printed to Clinton's printer several minutes later. She attached it to the blue backing, the top of the contract embossed with the Dallas Cowboys star, and then she signed the bottom. It was a legally binding contract, she figured, as it had all the language necessary. She forced Tim over to witness it and then, holding Maxwell's hand, they walked down the hallway to the GM's office, where Ryan Ellison was on the phone, Coach Michaels sitting in the chair in front of the desk. "What's going on?" Ryan demanded. He dropped his eyes to Maxwell, smiling. "Hey, it's Little Smash. Come on in guys."

"We have a contract here that I need signatures on. We're officially signing Maxwell. He is going to be the backup to Smash." Lyla passed them pens, her eyes falling to Maxwell, who looked like it was the greatest moment in his small life. She smiled softly. There was something going on with Smash and this little boy. She knew it was private, but she also knew that yeah, there were some athletes that took special interest in children they met doing their charity work, but this seemed…bigger.

They took a photo, courtesy of Ryan's assistant and sent it down to the photographer's office to be printed up on real paper and framed for Maxwell. "This is awesome!" Maxwell exclaimed, walking back down the hallway. He looked up, grinning wide. "Thank you Ms. Garrity. This is my favorite day."

It might actually be my favorite day as well, she thought, squeezing his hand. They bypassed her office, going down to the training field, walking along the lines. All the time she held his hand, looking down at the small child. She cleared her throat, keeping her voice soft, so as not to startle him. "Maxwell, do you like Smash?"

"I love Brian."

Oh my, Brian. That was something different entirely. She cleared her throat again. This might be going around the people who needed to know, but well, she wanted to know and Smash was very secretive about some of these things. The little drop about his daughter during their one conversation was a surprise for her, even after she'd made it her mission to learn everything about him so she wouldn't face those surprises after they'd signed him. He was very private. "Well, that's very nice." They stopped along the corner of the field, looking out at the wide expanse. After a moment, she glanced down at Maxwell again. He was wheezing a little. "Are you okay?" she asked, kneeling to his height.

"I'm fine. Sometimes that happens," Maxwell said. He didn't sound like a six-year old, but she imagined that if he was sick, he'd probably been sick for awhile and had to sound older than he was. He smiled at her, his eyes shadowed a little, his voice soft. "I can't breathe sometimes."

Oh you poor baby, she thought, her grip tightening on his hand. Her forehead wrinkled. Don't cry Lyla, she silently told herself. Don't do it. "You love Smash," she murmured. She cocked her head. "Do you live with him?"

"My mommy and daddy aren't here. My grandma is sick. I live with her sometimes but sometimes I live with Smash."

You are very lucky to have found him. "How did you meet him?"

"At the doctor. He came to the doctor because I wished for it and they made it happen." So it was probably a Make a Wish foundation, she thought. Then Smash probably saw that he didn't have much family and well, even she could see there was something special about this kid. She smiled wide and Maxwell smiled right back. "You're very pretty."

And you are very suave. She couldn't help but laugh, but it sounded more like a sob. "Why thank you," she said. He took her hand, kissing her knuckles, which just made her laugh/cry some more. Tears blinked quickly out of her gaze. I don't want to upset him. I needed this. I'm overworking myself. Worrying over things like…like whatever it was her dad was doing or moving in with Tim or just…all the other crazy thing sin her life. I really needed this. "You know Maxwell. I think I might be in love with you," she said, her eyes crinkling up again.

"Uh-oh, I'll have to duel you for her."

They both looked over at Tim, who was approaching them, a knowing smile on his lips. Smash was beside him, his hands in the pockets of his Dallas Cowboys hoodie. He nodded to Maxwell. "You ready to go kid? I gotta' get you back to Miami, your grandma's gonna' have my head."

"Aw, really?"

"Yes, really, but I promise you can come back in a couple weeks and watch me practice. How's that sound?"

"Okay," Maxwell giggled. He kissed her knuckles again. Where did this kid learn his moves, she wondered, still smiling. "Until later Ms. Garrity."

Lyla closed her eyes briefly, leaning down and kissed his cheek, twice on each one. "Until later Mr. Maxwell." She straightened up, waving her fingers at him as he took Smash's hand, walking off. She crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head and whispering. "That's really something."

"Smash told me that he's thinking of adopting him. Sounds like his grandma's not doing well. He doesn't have anyone else." Tim looked over at her, his hands on his hips. No nonsense Tim. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. What, she wondered, lifting her eyes to his. He smiled softly. "You want kids?"

Do I want kids? More than anything, but…she shook her head again, whispering. "Not right now." Right now I need this…she looked around the training field. Whatever it was that her career had become. She closed her eyes, leaning her head forward to her fingertips, taking a few calming breaths. It had been heavy there for a second. She tossed her hair from her face, smiling wide. Back to work now. "Come on," she said, looping her arm around his. "I'll walk you to the truck. We can sort out my dad's…whatever later."

"We live together." Not quite yet. They were silent until they got to his truck, when he opened the door, turning around and squeezed her hand. Thank you, she thought vaguely, when he didn't kiss her. This was her place of work. What happened up in her office…that couldn't happen again. They were lucky it was just Smash and not Jeff or Ryan or one of her other many bosses. "I love you," he said, soft. He smiled again, his eyes crinkling a little. "See you later."

"See you later," she whispered, letting go of his hand and stepping back, lifting her hand up in a silent wave as he backed out of the spot, honking his horn as goodbye before peeling out of the parking lot. She took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. Some of her stress and tension went with it.

This was getting fast, she thought, turning around and going into the headquarters building, walking up the stairs instead of taking her elevator. She checked her cell phone messages. Nothing important. No gossip on her, thank God. Just news about Smash still making the rounds. In fact, she thought, taking a seat behind her desk. She smiled at the stack of work. It was just as much, if not more that was there before this afternoon, but for some reason she felt like…felt like it was more routine than anything else.

Melanie was getting married and Tim was cool with it, the Riggins family as visiting tomorrow and she wasn't stressed out about it. She'd signed the best running back in the NFL to her team, which was in desperate need of a running back since their quarterback had a bad shoulder and could barely get the ball over the heads of the defensemen, and well, even if it sounded vaguely illegal and screwed up, she had a house with her boyfriend, the love of her life, who would be moving in shortly. Who also respected everything she was doing. Then there was a sweet little boy who just made her entire year.

"So what the hell is going to drop on me now?" Lyla demanded to the universe. She glared up at the ceiling. She didn't care. She'd just tackle it like everything else.


	16. The Board

**16. The Board**

"That doesn't go there."

"Well where the hell does it go?"

Lyla waved vaguely towards an area of the house he had yet to truly inspect, but which was more like a sunroom than anything else. "Just put it there."

Tim grumbled, but nevertheless he carried a chair over to the sunroom, dropping it in place. He turned around just in time to see Billy carting a large glass tabletop, his fingers starting to slip on it. "Shit," he cursed, running to catch it before it crashed onto the floor. "Come on Billy!" he exclaimed, pushing at his brother's shoulder. "Watch it."

"I almost had it."

"You almost had it in pieces on my hardwood floor!" Lyla exclaimed from the kitchen, where she was putting boxes of dishes. Mindy was already unpacking them, but he distinctly heard Lyla said that she'd just rearrange everything so not to bother. Well, at least she's honest, he thought, sighing at Billy's dirty look. They hadn't been thrilled when they'd been corralled into helping with the move.

Hey, you've got three boys to help out, where are my nephews anyway, he wondered, looking over to the front hall, where they were sliding down the excellent sliding banister, spinning off the circular disk newel posts. He looked around the living room, wrapping his arms around himself. This place was huge. He glanced sideways at Tyra, who had just entered the room, Landry carrying in the dining room table chairs. "What's up?"

"You have a big house."

"I know."

"You okay with it?"

I'm fine with it. It was the only house that the stupid realtor Lyla had hired had shown them that he actually liked. The rest were just…big for the sake of being big. He wanted something old. With character. If they couldn't live in his house, which he'd purposefully made old, adding uneven floorboards and older windows on purpose, he would damn well live in a place that had some sort of heart to it. This was the only one that wasn't like a museum. "I like it," he confirmed for her. She had been trying to get to him the past few days. Ever since they visited the facility, where she'd been watching him the entire time.

And here he thought that after she got married she'd find another hobby and not constant Riggins Watch. I'm fine, he felt like screaming at her. What the hell did Landry think of her obsession with him? He had to dislike it. He looked up as Buddy and Billy walked in an armoire, dropping it at the base of the stairs. "Why don't you let the movers actually do that?" he suggested. All of it was Lyla's stuff from her apartment. The stuff that he found out wasn't rented, which was the majority of her furniture.

This place is pretty big, we'll have to fill it with some good stuff, he thought, scanning the foyer again. The chandelier needed cleaning. So did the windows. He'd get started on them at some point. First he had to transition his job from Dillon to here in Dallas. It was weird, knowing that tonight he and Garrity would be living together. He wasn't sure what that was supposed to…entail, he guessed. Probably same as it had been only they had separate closets. Which seemed to make Mrs. Taylor get all weak in the knees when he mentioned it to her after she'd called to congratulate them on their big step.

Was it a big step? He moved out of the way of one of the movers, bringing a bed upstairs. He frowned. That was a new bed. He looked out the double doors, which were pulled back and bolted in place, allowing people free reign in and out of the house. He peered down the front pathway and yard to three different trucks all pulled up behind the moving truck. "Garrity?" he called. He frowned again. "What's with the trucks?"

"I ordered some furniture," she said, moving beside him when a deliveryman came up to the front, passing her a clipboard. "This is for the couch?"

"You picked a couch without me?"

"You were in Dillon packing your things. Thanks." She smiled quickly, moving aside as they brought in a giant brown leather couch. He frowned deeply, peering down at her. She shot back a matching frown. "I didn't think you'd mind. You have your chair."

Yes, he had his chair. They're were a few things they'd agreed that he would bring back from Dillon so he would be comfortable in the house, as it was his home too. They'd visit "the Dillon House" like they were living in an old-fashioned novel, on the weekends and holidays when Lyla could get away from work. He'd been sad to leave it, but he knew that Becky and Luke would check on it for him and make sure that everything was kept up around on the land. "I just wish you'd…" he trailed off, seeing as another delivery van pulled up, with 'Best Buy' stamped on it. He glanced at her, pointing. "What's that?"

"Your flatscreen."

"I brought my flatscreen." It was one of his most prized possessions. A sixty-inch plasma, which he had installed in the wall. It was HD and it was beautiful and he could watch football for days on it.

"Yes but the house is wired with surround sound," she said, rising on her toes, her chin resting on his shoulder. She wiggled her eyebrows, her hand going to his hair. Her voice dropped as she brushed her lips over his. "You really love me right now, don't you?"

Okay. I really love you. He kissed her quickly. "Yes." Still didn't make him happy that she didn't consult him on furniture. He wrapped his arm around her shoulders, walking into the large kitchen. "You want to order pizza?"

"I want everyone out of our house, then I want to order pizza, and I want to go upstairs and christen our bedroom," she murmured, kissing him again and grinning. She wiggled her eyebrows, nodding towards the stairs. "In fact…I think we can escape up there right now."

I like the way you think, he thought, grinning back at her and took her hand, running up the stairs. They were halfway up when Buddy emerged around the corner, yelling to them. "Where are you guys going in a rush?"

Lyla looked around his shoulder, scowling at her father. "What's the matter?"

"Just want to know where you're going, you have someone on the phone for you."

Don't answer the phone, he groaned, when she let go of him almost immediately, running down the stairs to get the phone. "We're going to set rules Garrity!" he shouted down at her. No phone in the house could be the first one. Especially on days which she had off. He smiled quickly at Buddy, who was scowling at him. Oh great, what'd I do now? Once upon a time ago he worried about Buddy's opinion and approval of him for Lyla, but now? He could give a damn.

So he knew, that when he went into his room with Lyla at the end of the hall, and began to move boxes around, trying to distinguish which were his and which were hers, that Buddy would appear in the doorway soon enough. "Mr. Garrity," he said, reaching for his toolbox. He glanced at the bedposts. It was a nice bed. Only he didn't like the way it was positioned in the corner. He removed the mattresses, kneeling down and began to unscrew the footboard from the rest of the frame. "What can I do for you?"

Buddy walked around to the doors, pushing them closed, rather like a butler might. He turned on his heel, wrinkling his nose at the room. "This place is too big for you two. You should have gone with something smaller."

"This one has a secret passageway," Tim said. It did. He thought it was neat, a door in the pantry that led to a pathway out into the barn. He planned on scaring the shit out of Garrity that night by sneaking into it and making scraping noises on the wall. Then jumping out when she finally came to investigate. He turned back around to Buddy. "You bought the house, why are you complaining about it?"

"Because Lyla won't take my down payment, she gave me the money back."

Well that was her prerogative. He didn't care who paid the mortgage on the house. They'd kind of unofficially decided that she'd pay the mortgage; he'd pay the bills. Everything else was just up to them. He leaned against the post, adjusting the height of the frame. Lyla liked the bed high off the ground. She could store more shit under it that way, he figured. He glanced out of the corner of his eye to Buddy, who was still frowning at him. "What's up Mr. Garrity?" he repeated.

"What are you doing?"

"Fixing the bed."

Buddy seemed to shudder, scowling at the large suite. "You guys are going to live together I guess." Yeah, means we'll be sleeping the same bed, what the hell is wrong with you? He walked around the other side, fixing the other frame. While he fiddled with it, he looked back at Buddy again, who was opening up a box. He reached in, removing some pictures and setting them on the dresser. He paused, narrowing his gaze on one. "Where is this?'

Tim looked over at it. Oh, that one had been on Lyla's beside table back in her apartment, after they started to see each other a lot. "That's at my house. Back in Dillon."

"Where?"

He stood up, walking over and frowning at the picture. He pointed to the landscaping in the background. "By the pond. She fell asleep under the tree so I took a picture because she's funny when she sleeps." He'd actually done it because she hadn't been sleeping well, so he wanted to show her that she could sleep fine when she was at his house.

"Ah." Buddy set the photo aside, turning around and paced a little. He finally stopped, turning quickly and frowned again, his eyes narrowing. "Tim I need to talk to you. This isn't me, Buddy, your friend and former employer." He paused, his voice turning to steel. "This is Buddy Garrity, the father of the woman you are now living with, who is providing for this house."

Oh great. So we get to do this now. He straightened up, setting the screwdriver he'd been using back in his toolbox. He glanced at Buddy. In high school he'd have been terrified. Then he'd probably go off and do something stupid. Right now? They'd been through too much for him to get worried over what Buddy Garrity thought. Only person's opinion that matter on his relationship with Lyla was Lyla's opinion. "Shoot," he said, leaning against the dresser, propping his head in his hand. "What's going on?"

After another pause, Buddy cleared his throat. "Lyla wears a very large diamond on a necklace. You guys are moving in together…" he glared at him, his voice hard. "She's in a good place in her career. She's come very far. I don't want her distracted. I don't want her moving back to Dillon."

Not anytime soon, he thought, running his tongue over his teeth. He cleared his throat, his voice quiet. "You want to know my intentions?" What was this? The 1600s? He smiled quickly, before Buddy had a chance to answer. "Mr. Garrity, don't worry. There's a reason I'm in Dallas and not Dillon. This is about Lyla right now. The ring doesn't go on her finger until she's ready. Until then, I'm here in Dallas and she's running the Cowboys, but yes, one day we will get married."

"What about kids?"

He sighed hard; they hadn't talked about kids, other than Lyla's little comment on the practice field after Maxwell and Smash had left. He shrugged again, his voice soft. "Mr. Garrity we haven't discussed that. Don't worry, they're coming, but not right now." That seemed to placate Buddy, who kind of smiled a little. He flashed a wide smile at his future father-in-law. "Don't worry. This is about Lyla and I'm not going to hurt her."

"You have a bad track record."

He smiled sadly, his voice soft. "Mr. Garrity…we've both hurt each other. At the same time. We're not doing that to each other anymore." At least, not that he thought. He picked up his toolbox, effectively ending the conversation. "We're fine Mr. Garrity. Don't worry about us."

The 'threatening father' seemed to fade from Buddy's eyes, replaced with resigned anxiety "I do worry. She's my daughter, Tim." He frowned slightly. "And she's strong, but…but not sometimes. Just be careful. Please."

I promise, he silently conveyed, slightly nodding. He left the room, dropping the box on the table in the front hall. It seemed like everything was packing up. Lyla had finished directing people away from the house, leaving behind a few random movers bringing a few things in and his family, milling around, bored. "Go start unpacking the Xbox," he said to Billy, jerking his thumb to the living room. "I'll be there in a sec."

"I put your Xbox in your room."

He paused, Billy at his side, both of them blinking. He narrowed his eyes on Lyla, who was scribbling a bunch of things into her overflowing portfolio book. "My room?" he echoed.

She nodded, not looking up, turning her hand and pointing at the door that led to the basement. The partly finished basement, he thought. "Your room," she repeated, picking up her phone and dialed a number, carrying everything down the hallway to the room that would serve as her office.

He glanced at Billy. "Let's go little brother," Billy said, opening up the door and jogging down the carpeted stairs. "I don't know what she's talking about with your room unless you guys aren't sleeping together, but…holy shit!"

"Whoa!" Stevie exclaimed, knocking into them from behind. The twins appeared at their feet, eyes wide. Stevie whooped, jumping off the last step and ran over to a pinball machine, instantly hitting it. "This is cool! Your girlfriend rocks Uncle Tim!"

Yeah she does, Tim thought, staring at the basement living space, which had his flatscreen television from his house, his armchair, and his couch. There were pictures that he had from his house up on the walls and even a bar in the corner. It was his room, quite literally. "A man cave," he said softly, walking over to the sliding glass doors that led to a walkout patio. Nice job, Garrity. He stepped away from the space, walking back up the stairs and out into the kitchen. Mindy was putting away dishes while Tyra, who had appeared, was scowling at the view from the breakfast nook.

He bypassed her; she would surely complain about the size of the house. He darted into Lyla's office, which she was arranging. It had been pretty locked up. She'd moved some stuff in the night before, telling no one to enter the room. It had been like that at her old office. "Hey," he said, stepping inside. He'd never been in her office in her apartment. She was so secretive of it. This was their house though, so he was surprised when he saw her job, whipping around and glaring angrily at him. His face fell. "Uh-oh."

"Never barge in here!" She went over to the doorknob, flicking the lock and turned back around, shifting anxiously. "I thought I'd locked it." She reached her hand to push her bangs aside. There was a gel pen and a marker holding her hair into a messy topknot.

What in the world, he wondered, turning around to look at her. As he turned, he took in a wall that was covered in a dry erase board, numerous magnets with various names on them, positions, and NFL teams. All 32 of them lined in a row. "What is this?" he whispered, his eyes widening. There was a bulletin board beside it, tacked full of little pieces of paper. String ran from one column to another and over again in different colors. It was an absolute mess.

"What the hell is this?" he laughed. He pointed to the string, turning to her and grinning, ignoring her angry scowl. This was not a happy Lyla. "This is what I always thought the inside of my head looks like."

Lyla raked her fingers over her hair again, gesturing to the boards, her voice soft. "This is my process. I'm working on something."

"Working on what?" He looked at some names, question marks beside them, going from one team to another. At the very top he just saw a magnet with "Vince Howard- QB" on it. He arched an eyebrow. "This about Vince?" He'd be jealous, if he got jealous, but he didn't get jealous anymore. Not since he knew that Vince meant nothing to her but a friend, at least. That first weekend in Dillon on Memorial Day had kind of been bad for him.

She swallowed hard, but shook her head slightly, her voice quiet. "No, it's not about Vince. This is about my job." She gestured to the wall, her voice still very soft. Like there were spies outside the door listening in or something. "You know that I'm VP of Player Personnel. Means I advocate for the player. I establish contracts, I am in charge of the scouts, and I hire the coordinators. I hire the staff. I hire the players." She took another breath, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know that they want to name me GM. Means I gotta' do a little more than just…" she chuckled, throwing her hand to the wall. "Hire your brother as one of my scouts."

I know, but you'll do great. GM's need to know football. Lyla Garrity knew football. Better than most men. It's what happened when you grew up with it. He tapped his finger on the wall. "You trying a big play?" He wasn't stupid. There were seven columns on one of the boards, with 32 spots. She was doing draft magic. "Season hasn't even started," he reminded her. "Those 32 lineups can get really tricky."

Lyla tapped the first column. "The Cleveland Browns are killing me with their draft magic. They scored three first-round picks this year. Their pick will be at the bottom, but previous deals got them the Broncos pick…" She lifted up a magnet, moving it over and tapping it. She picked up another with her other hand. "And they have the Ravens pick from one of their deals last year." She began to talk, her voice soft. "The Ravens will need a safety, no matter how hard they play this year. They're going for Donte East, out of Oregon. Don't ask how I know. That kid plays anywhere near how he did last year, they've got him, but they don't have a first round pick because they gave it to the Browns last year and they're trying to come in. They have Mitchell Warren, he's coming off of a knee surgery, but he's still a good RT. You know who needs an RT? That would be…" she trailed off, picking up the New Orleans Saints. "And they want him because he'll pair well with their LT. So that leaves the Saints willing to step aside, but they could use a CB. It's all about the trades, Tim. It's all about the magic. CBs are going to be a dime a dozen, they can take whoever they want, so I have nothing to give the Saints, but you know who could?" She picked up another helmet, grinning. "The 49ers, who are looking to get rid of their CB. See how this goes?"

Then she began to move her hands on the board, little magnets going here and there, all of them with the two or three-letters of a particular position. Tim just watched. She was breathless. It took her about ten minutes before she'd finished moving everything around and then she reached up, taking Vince Howard's name from the top of the board. She flicked it around in the air for a second, growling. "And I can't seem to get him. All that maneuvering and I can't get him!"

I'm sorry about that, he thought, leaning back against her messy desk. He looked at the scattered boards. "So this is you playing the draft?" he asked. No wonder she didn't want anyone, even him, to see it. This was proprietary. A mover took a picture of this and he could tell exactly what Dallas was up to and that wouldn't bode well for their future. It was all about money. All about winning.

It didn't seem to make sense to him either. Season hadn't started yet. First game was in a few weeks, but still. Lyla nodded, leaning back on the desk beside him. She bit down on the end of a pen, pointing to the board. "It changes so much that I need to have the magnets and everything. Nothing permanent. No markers even, it's just a mess. Most of it's all in here." She tapped her forehead for emphasis.

Clearly. He was about to ask whether she'd let Jason in on her little plan to try to get Vince over and out of his contract, which he imagined was why she was tackling this with the gusto she was, when Tyra's voice called out through the door. "Why is this locked? Lyla your boxes are like everywhere and I am not unpacking for you." She tried the doorknob again before letting out a groan. "Oh my God! Are you guys having sex? You really need to grow up."

"Go away Tyra!" he yelled.

"Ew! You are! Tim's in there!"

"I can't just talk to my girlfriend?" he shouted. How come Tyra thought he was like a 16-year old or something? He'd matured. He smiled sideways at Lyla, who was rolling her eyes. He dropped a kiss to her forehead, murmuring that he loved her, and he got off the desk, going to the door. He slipped out quickly, glaring at Tyra, who was just smiling at him. "What?"

"You never got dressed that fast."

"Because I wasn't doing that with her, we were talking."

Tyra narrowed her eyes, but she was still smiling, still teasing. "Oh? I didn't know you guys talked."

He walked by her, but smiled, glancing over his shoulder. "What do you want?"

"We're ordering pizza."

"I want all of you out in an hour."

"What, we can't crash here tonight?" she continued to tease, reaching her arms around his shoulders and grinning. She kissed his cheek, patting at his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Landry and I are going back to our hotel, we have to get up early in the morning to get back to Austin. Landry's got a job offer." She puffed up a little in pride, her voice dropping, slightly awkward as they walked out onto the large deck behind the kitchen. It overlooked a small hill, hanging out over the walkout patio of his man cave. She crossed her arms over her chest leaning against the porch railing as he came to stand beside her. "The band is going to be at South by Southwest."

His eyes widened. Even he knew what South by Southwest was. "Wow. Congrats to Landry."

"I know," she almost giggled, tossing her hair out of her eyes. She reached up, brushing it away when the wind blew it back again. She dropped her hand from her hair to her opposite shoulder, her arms wrapped tight around herself. She smiled again, soft and loving in his direction. I love you too, he thought, smiling back at her. Without saying a word, she stepped towards him, and he embraced her, resting his chin in the crook of his shoulder. "I love you so much," she mumbled into his shoulder. Her voice seemed thick. "I'm so happy you're happy."

I'm happy you're happy. He kissed her temple, taking a deep breath and releasing it slowly through pursed lips, his shoulders falling with the release of the breath. It was relaxing. Calming. Now I feel tired all of a sudden. He gazed out beyond the porch, to the rather large, wooded backyard, and then beyond towards the Hill Country. I guess this is my place now, he thought. It wasn't his place in Dillon, where he could see beyond the trees. Where he didn't have neighbors, but…this would do.

He let go of Tyra, squeezing her forearms as she let go of him, dropping her hands to her side, her gaze fixated on him. "I've got a plan," he sighed, feeling the need to tell someone. Buddy got him thinking about it. Lyla's crazy office just kept it all there in his head, evolving and forming. He smiled slowly, his eyes crinkling up, quiet and resigned. I have to tell someone. He crossed his arms over his chest, looking out at the yard again before his eyes rolled back to her. She was just waiting, still grinning at him. "I'm going to propose."

"Yeah," Tyra sighed, nodding slightly. She smiled again, whispering. "I kind of got that with the giant ring she wears on her necklace."

"With a wedding."

Finally I got her. He smiled, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Excuse me?"

It was something he'd been going over for awhile. Mostly since Lyla broke the news to him that Melanie was getting married to the billionaire about two months after breaking up with him. Which he deserved. She deserved the billionaire. He wasn't thrilled at the prospect of attending an ex-girlfriend's wedding, but he understood why Lyla had to go, so he'd go as her date, to support her. That's what they were supposed to do for each other. She knew that if she did that, that meant she'd be stuck doing something she didn't like. He was thinking of the retribution.

But in any case, he'd been thinking about how to actually propose or when. Not yet, that's all he knew. Just like Lyla wouldn't talk about kids. Just not yet. Whenever that was, they'd know when. So he thought they might as well just get it over with. It wasn't like they moved quickly. They were notoriously slow with just about everything in their entire relationship. Even Tyra seemed to get that. "I guess it makes sense you'd get married before you guys get engaged," she said, lifting her eyebrows slightly. She reached for him again, giving him a tight hug and patted his back, breathing her words. "Please don't procreate before I'm mentally prepared for your spawn to be wandering the world."

He laughed. Yeah. Sure. "Of course." They held each other for a few more seconds before he pulled back, kissing her cheek. "Love you. I'll let you know when the wedding is."

"Good luck. You can date Lyla, you can pine for Lyla, and you can do whatever it is you do with Lyla, but you're living with her now," Tyra said, patting his chest and grinning, her eyebrows lifting up almost to her hairline as she smiled, teasing again. "So good luck with that 24/7."

Eh, I can handle her, he thought, walking Tyra back into the house, where Landry and Billy came up from the mancave. "Can I get one?" he asked Tyra, taking his jacket from her.

"Absolutely not."

"I'm getting one, you can't tell me what to do."

"Well good luck with that," Tyra said, walking to the door, Landry waving and saying goodbye as they left, laughing at something together, on their way to their car. That left behind the rest of the Riggins clan and Buddy. Which I guess I now have to feed and entertain, Tim thought, scowling. He did both, kicking them out sometime around midnight, leaving both him and Lyla alone in their new house together.

They were sitting in the center of their unmade bed, looking around the empty room. Well, empty as it could be with stacks of boxes everywhere. "Seems strange," Lyla sighed, looking from one end to another. She narrowed her eyes. "Like everything in this house is too perfect. There's nothing to really fix. I don't know if I like it."

"You're not going to be able to sleep are you?"

"Not really."

Well I guess I'll have to fix that. He continued to sit against the headboard, both of htem perfectly straight, staring at the empty wall. This house was too perfect. They were not perfect. He stood up, walked over to his toolbox and picked up a hammer. He waited a moment, staring at the wall across from their bed. After a moment, he chucked the hammer into the wall, sending it through the drywall, leaving behind a hole with the hammer sticking out.

Lyla gasped, covering her mouth with her hands and sitting straighter. She said nothing, finally dropping them after a moment before swallowing hard, looking over at him as he returned to the bed. "Very nice."

"Well it's not perfect anymore."

"I love you."

He pulled her towards him, reaching over with one hand to turn out the light, plunging their room into darkness. "Yeah, love you too."


	17. The Fullback

**17. The Fullback**

Vince leaned against his Maserati, waiting as Tim ducked out of the Cowboys Stadium, jogging over to it. He held his hand out. Vince blinked. "What do you think you're doing with that hand?" he asked.

"Give me the keys."

"I don't think so." That was a recipe for disaster. He waited a beat, but Tim wasn't budging, his hand still outstretched. He gave him a quick up and down look. Despite being a few years older, having no real football experience, and generally being in what Vince would consider poorer health than him, he was still pretty sure Tim Riggins could beat him up. He vaguely remembered the one East Dillon practice where Coach got both Riggins brothers to be the sole defense against an entire offense. That hurt. He'd had bruises for a few days after. He sighed, giving him the guess. "Guess this is why I have insurance."

"Score." Tim slid gracefully into the front seat of the sleek racecar, the engine barely making a sound as he pulled out of the players' parking lot, heading towards the highway. He sighed hard. "Why aren't you in Oakland?"

"Bye week." Why else am I not playing on a Sunday? He got special permission to leave Oakland and practice for four days, to come to Dillon to be with his mother. They were at least letting him leave as much as he could, spending the time with her. While he was sitting with her in her garden, he was studying game film and the playbook.

Except for now. He'd driven in to Dallas because Regina was going to be helping out at Dillon High. Buddy Garrity had gotten her involved in making ribbons for the Booster club to sell at various fundraisers. Regina hadn't been interested, but her doctors had told her that always doing something with her hands would help out. So she'd gotten kind of involved in it. He didn't want to hang around with her and Becky, Luke was working, so here he was.

He also needed to meet with Jess, but he'd do that later. "Where are you taking my car?" he asked Tim, who hadn't said a word since they got on the highway.

"I'm just driving."

"You have a record. I get busted in a car that you're speeding…"

"Lyla got my record sponged."

He blinked. "Expunged?"

"Whatever."

Vince chuckled, glancing out the window. It was the middle of the day. The Cowboys were playing the Dolphins, which he figured would be big enough or Tim to at least stick around watching the entire game, but apparently not. "How's Smash doing? It's his old team."

"Smash is adopting a kid with cancer."

"What the hell?"

"I don't know the details, but yeah. Kid's grandmother is letting him. She's dying, so he's adopting him. Maxwell is going to move to Dallas to be with him. I guess he's in remission but still needs the oxygen tank." Tim sighed hard, continuing on speaking. "Lyla works until like eight every night, I hate my new job but oh well, and if I have to sit in that skybox through one more game with the Dallas socialities hitting on me, I'm going to kill someone."

Ouch. Rough life, he thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes sideways. "That why you wanted me to help you escape?"

"I told Lyla I was going out to get another beer."

"So you have that to look forward to when you come home."

Tim shrugged. Vince knew that it was going to be a thing, especially with Lyla, but…hell, his friendship with Lyla was very different from her relationship with Tim. To be honest he had no idea how they'd lasted this long and seemed to be perfectly fine. Maybe she wouldn't get mad and freeze him out. He glanced at him again. Tim shrugged once more. "What? She'll be pissed, but then I'll do something cute and we'll be fine again."

"That really works?"

"No, but at least I try."

Okay, at least you have a plan. He leaned against the door, frowning slightly. "How is she doing?" It had been about a month into the season. The Cowboys had a bye week coming up, affording Lyla at least one break. They were doing…okay. Not the best. Not the worst. He wondered if they'd start tanking so they could get a high draft pick. They could do it, but that wasn't Lyla's attitude. In fact, the couple times in Oakland when the topic of purposefully failing came up, Lyla had been one of those executives at the table who openly threatened to tell the NFL Commissioner on them.

Tim didn't say anything for a moment, taking the Maserati up a few more, his foot depressing farther on the accelerator. He finally sighed. "She's fine. This GM thing is getting to her. Ellison is basically out the door, he wants to tank. She's not having it."

"She'll get a decent draft pick. She'll be able to pick her own team."

"I don't know what she's got in mind."

Yes you do. He was tempted to ask about his prospects of coming to the team, but he didn't. That would put Tim in a bad place. Torn or something. He looked back out the window, his voice quiet. "You talk to Coach recently?"

"The other day. Mrs. Taylor got a job with UT. They're moving to Austin."

"And Landry got that record deal thing. Tyra said they're moving to San Francisco."

Tim nodded slightly, still quiet. "She'll do well there."

I figure Landry would do well there too. It was kind of their scene. His scene? Not so much. Oakland was a pit and San Francisco was just too much for him to take in. He never thought he'd prefer Dillon or Texas over what lie beyond its borders, but once he'd gotten a taste of it, from his short time at Vanderbilt to his time with Auburn, he just…he'd been all over the country but he kept coming back to Texas. "How is Dallas?" he asked, mostly because he hated the silence.

"Dallas is Dallas."

"You've been there what, a month?"

"Almost two months now." Tim released a long sigh, rolling his eyes sideways before he quirked his lip up in a smile. "You gonna' ask about my job or are we going to talk about the weather there Howard?"

He smiled quickly. "Sorry. Hate the quiet."

"I like quiet."

"Which is why I don't think you'd like Dallas."

"Dallas is fine," Tim sighed again. He rolled his eyes, mumbling. "Hate my job."

"You get a job with a contractor?"

"Some company. Bigwigs that build 20-story buildings and stuff across East Texas. It's boring. I have to tuck my shirt in every day."

"The horror."

"I know."

They drove silently for a few more minutes until Vince took a deep breath, slowly releasing it. "So what's with you and Tyra, huh?"

"What's with you and Jess, huh?"

Touche. He darted his gaze sideways again. It was just a thought he'd had, after he'd brought up Landry. Tim switched it to Tyra. He narrowed his eyes, a protective feeling surging through him all of a sudden. And he felt antsy. Like he wanted to get into something. Not the greatest idea in the world, especially with someone who had anger constantly simmering beneath the surface, but oh well. "Me and Jess is nothing right now. We're talking about you. You call me to rescue you and I bring up Landry and you bring up Tyra. You got a thing for her? Because seriously Riggins, I will fuck you up. Lyla's one of my best friends."

The Maserati came to a sudden stop, Tim jerking the gearshift into park. Vince jumped, looking around, terrified they'd just stopped in the middle of the highway. Nope. Turned out they were on the side of the road, among some grassy hills. We must be way east of the city now, he thought, looking back at the guy driving his $400,000 car. He waited a beat; Tim just stared at him, his green eyes steely. "Are you going to kill me?" he finally asked.

Another moment passed before Tim smiled again, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. "I like how protective you are over Lyla," he said, his voice soft. Until it grew harder. "But I don't have to explain myself."

"Yes you do," he snapped. He climbed out of the Maserati, turning back around to glare at Tim over the top of the car, jabbing a finger at him. "We didn't have this talk because I was in Oakland but we can have it now. Lyla is a good person and if you're hung up on your ex-girlfriend who by the way is married now to someone I consider a friend, then we're going to have a problem and I'll remind you Riggins that I grew up in a shittier situation than you and I'm the NFL quarterback here. I will beat you."

Maybe I'll be black and blue and in a coma, but I'll still win. After another moment, Tim shook his head again. "You ever have someone that's just your friend?" he demanded, leaning against the top of the Maserati. "Someone who…who is just a friend? But like a sister too? No? You haven't, because if you had, you'd understand what I got with Tyra and I don't need to explain myself to you Vince!"

No, you really don't. I'm being stupid. I'm just…mad, he thought, turning away from the car. He walked away for a few minutes, finally stopping. He knelt down, picking up some stones beneath his fancy Nikes, tossing them around in his hand for a few seconds before he sent them spinning sideways across the field. He tossed the rest of them off again, kneeling back down for a few more. Tim came up to stand beside him. "I love Lyla," he murmured. He glanced sideways at Tim. "She's like my best friend. Like a sister too. I don't want her hurt and you hurt her. You always hurt her."

Tim picked up a stone, smoothing his fingers over it before he tossed it out again. "Hit that rock out there," he said, pointing to a boulder that was about 100 feet away from them. He waited, but Vince missed, and then he flung his arm sideways, the rock in his hand bouncing off the boulder. He smiled slyly. "I have better aim than you do. No wonder you've lost the first three games."

Vince rolled his eyes. They lost the first three games because their defense was atrocious. That's what happened when you signed guys that were better off fighting in bars than on the gridiron. He wasn't interested in it. He just…he wasn't interested in it. If I can't get to Dallas this year…he sighed hard. He had a lot of money. More money than he knew what to do with. It wouldn't last the rest of his life, but he could get a job somewhere else. He didn't want to coach. He'd rather do something with his charity. He looked back at Tim. "Sorry I…got mad at you."

"You're mad in general and it's fair." Tim picked up another rock, tossing it out again, his voice soft. "At the risk of getting sappy, Tyra and I wouldn't ever work out. I love her like a sister. She loves me like…something, I don't know. But she's with Landry again."

"Think they'll last?"

Tim shook his head, whispering. " No, I don't."

That's really sad though, Vince thought, kneeling down for another handful of rocks, feeling them dig into the skin of his palm. He knew that people who were different could last. He also knew that sometimes you forced things that just…wouldn't work out. "Why not?" he asked, although he didn't expect an answer.

Beside him, Tim picked up another rock. He played with it for a moment before he swallowed hard, looking sideways. "Landry deserves someone better."

Whoa. "Serious?" he demanded. He shook his head slightly. "What the hell?"

"Tyra's always going to be a career person. Landry needs someone that…that cares about him as much as he cares about them and I really don't want to talk about this anymore." Tim was shutting down. This had delved too much into the personal. Which was fine by him. He didn't want this to be their main topic of conversation, he just…he felt anxious. Tim sighed hard, shoving his hands into his pockets. "What are you doing around Christmas?" he asked.

"I don't know. Depends on the way the team is going."

"Whatever, you guys aren't making the playoffs this year."

That might be true, but they still had to plan for it. He shrugged. "I don't know," he repeated. He narrowed his eyes. Tim was planning something. "Why?"

"That's when the wedding is."

The wedding? He arched an eyebrow. "Oh? I didn't realize you guys were even engaged."

"We're not."

"Is Lyla aware of this?" Tim turned away from the field, walking back to the Maserati. He slid into the front seat again, passing the keys back to him. Thanks, now I can drive my own car, he thought, getting into the driver's side. He turned he engine over, looking back at the other guy. He seemed content. "So you're marrying Lyla and she doesn't know? You realize you can't force it. She's going to take her time."

"Not on this." Well good luck with that. He found the highway again, turning towards Dallas. Tim sighed again, his voice soft. "You talk to Jess recently?"

The other day. They talked more now than they had in the past, which maybe was a good thing of whatever machinations had led them back together. Whoever it was that decided to take it upon himself or herself to call Jess and send her to his mother's rehab facility, he wished he could thank them. She'd been a bit of fresh air to him. "I talk to her now and then."

"Good."

He squinted, rolling his eyes slightly to Tim. "Why?"

"No reason. Keep your eye on the road."

Fine, I'll keep my eye on the road. He flicked on the radio, turning it up to drown out the silence. He pulled into the driveway of Lyla and Tim's giant house several hours later, after they'd stopped to get a beer. A few beers, actually. He climbed out, walking up and into the house, waving at Lyla as she slipped out of her office. "You secret hidey-hole," he said, when he saw her immediately turn a key in the lock. "You ever going to tell me what's in your offices?"

"It's where I keep the souls of people I eat alive," she said, kissing his cheek and giving him a quick hug. She glared at Tim. "Nice to see that you picked him up. Was he wandering on the side of the road? I thought he'd gotten hit by a car, only reason I could think of why he'd leave me on a Sunday. When I had the wives all in the box with me."

"You'll eat those women alive," Tim said, pouring himself a whiskey. He smiled quickly at her. "And it was just today."

"Whatever. Vince, how's your mom?"

"Good. I've got to get back to Dillon."

"Spend the night, I cooked." She paused at Tim's stare. She rolled her eyes. "Okay fine! I ordered in! Geez. Anyways, I invited someone for dinner, I think it's great now that you're here. Wonderful surprise."

Why, he wondered, looking up at the doorbell ringing. Perfect timing, he supposed, glancing at the clock on the stove. It was close to three. Guess that was Sunday dinner time, he thought, walking into the living room, where Tim was lying on the couch, the gigantic television playing highlights from that morning. He winced at the score with the Cowboys. "That's not good," he mumbled. It was 42 to 14. Not good.

"Not good at all," Tim said. He sat up, an eyebrow lifting. "Hello."

Guess the guest is here, Vince thought, hoping it wasn't anyone who was celebrity crazy. He didn't want to be answering questions and signing autographs the rest of the afternoon. He turned slowly, his eyes widening slightly at the sight of Jess stepping into the living room. "Hey," he said, looking immediately at Lyla, who was mighty pleased with herself. He glanced at Jess again. "What are you doing here?"

"I invited her," Lyla said, holding a bottle of wine that Jess had brought with her. She lifted it up. "Tim, help with this, please?"

"Why? You know how to open wine."

"Timothy," she said, her teeth grit, looking Stepford stupid. Jesus Tim, Vince thought, glaring at the other guy, who still hadn't gotten it. A blind person would know what Lyla was trying to say without saying it. She reached over, grabbing his hand and pulling him up. "Little help in the kitchen please, come on."

And that's not subtle at all. He rolled his eyes, walking over to give her a quick hug. "How are you?" They hadn't talked in a few weeks. Made sense. They lived different lives. Different paths.

"Good. Lyla called me the other day, I had no idea you'd be here." Jess walked out onto one of the many decks that wrapped around various parts of the scattered house, smoothing her hand over her red blouse. She leaned against the railing, smiling warmly at him. "How's Regina? I haven't spoken with her in awhile."

He smiled; nice of her to ask about his mother before she asked about him. "She's good. She's helping out the football team, Buddy Garrity's got her making ribbons. Never thought I'd see the day a Howard was accepted by Dillon society."

The smile broke wider on her face and she laughed. "Well you know Buddy Garrity just wants you to come speak at graduation or pass out state rings or something."

"Yeah, well…" he shrugged, smiling quickly, rolling his eyes to the house. "I got an in with someone who can control Buddy Garrity. That's not as much a risk now as it used to be."

Jess nodded, looking down at her toes, which peeked out from her open-toe sandals. She clunked the heel on the deck floor, looking back up at him, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. "You know I think Lyla expects us to get back together or something," she said, chuckling. She ducked her eyes back up to him again. They crinkled slightly in the corners with her tight smile. "Should we tell her that we're just friends?"

That'd just make her sad. "Let's let her think," he said softly. He smiled again, his voice quiet. "I'd like us to be more, but…I understand why…we're not."

"People grow up Vince," she said, still quiet again. I'm sure Tim and Lyla are both killing each other trying to listen in on the conversation, he thought, glancing to the kitchen window, just in time to see Tim swish the curtain back in place. Yeah, he thought, rolling his eyes as Jess glanced over her shoulder to the kitchen window and then back to him again. She frowned a little. "Is there somewhere more private where we could talk?"

He shook his head. "They'll still find us."

They walked down the stairs to the backyard, stepping out into the soft grass. He wished he had a drink or something to hold in his hand, but that would just make things too easy. He didn't expect this to be easy. They'd talked a bit about this in the last couple of months, but… "Do you want to tell Lyla or should I?" Jess asked, trying to tease again. She tossed her hair from her eyes. "Because I will, I mean…I think it's nice that your friend is trying to make you feel better, but this is only going to hurt us more. I love you Vince and I probably always will, because you were my first love and I know that I was yours, but…but you can't hold onto those and cling to them when things get difficult. It only makes it hurt more when it can't work out."

I know, he felt like shouting. He threw his arms out to the side. "I wasn't the one who called you!" he laughed out loud. He dropped his arms down, staring straight at her. He swallowed hard. "This wasn't me, Jess. I don't know who called you, but you were the one that listened to them, that came to me. I mean…I'm glad you did because you've helped with my Mom and I really appreciate that and it's been really nice, but I agree with you so don't get upset with me."

"I'm not upset," she laughed. She pushed at her hair again, sighing and looking away, whispering. "I just…I just wish it could be like Tim and Lyla, you know? Separate for awhile, do your own thing, and then…then still be able to love each other as adults."

Not everyone got that. He thought back to what Tim had insinuated in the field, with Landry and Tyra. He felt bad for them both, because he tended to agree, even though he didn't know either of them incredibly well. Not the way Tim did. You couldn't force it because it felt nice one time. He reached for her, pulling her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "I'll always love you." But right now I just can't do this. It wasn't time. He had other things. "But my Mom…"

"And football, I know." She brushed her hand over the back of his neck, smiling up at him. "I know Vince, you don't need to tell me. Besides, I'm seeing someone, remember?"

"I thought you made him up."

"No," she chuckled. She rolled her eyes. "I told you, he's a teacher at my school. We're doing well. He's not jealous of you at all."

He quirked his lip up. "Yeah? Would he like it if I said I was a little jealous of him for having you?" He saw her eyebrow arch, warning him silently. Yeah, probably shouldn't joke. He hugged her one more time. It was for the best. He sighed. "I love you Jess. Always will."

"Always will," she said, kissing his cheek. She let go of him, walking back to the stairs, letting go of his fingers with a light brush. They went upstairs without saying another word, going into the house. "Hello? Lyla? Are you there?"

They both stepped into the kitchen, where Lyla jumped away from the kitchen window, where she'd practically been hanging out. She cleared her throat, grabbing a tray of wine glasses. "I poured the wine, let's go out onto the deck."

Vince scowled, taking a glass. "Where'd Tim go?"

The mancave door opened just then, Tim falling out, holding another bottle of wine. "Lyla I got that other one for dinner, it was in the cellar thing like you said…" he trailed off, smiling quickly at them both. "Hey guys." He set the wine on the counter. "So how's it going? Jess, your team isn't doing half bad this year, they were on the news the other day, you see that?"

Jess smirked. "Yeah, they're not bad. Unlike the Cowboys."

"Hey," Lyla exclaimed. She picked up her glass, passing the tray to Tim as they walked out onto the deck. "Let's make a deal, no Cowboys talk and I won't talk about Vince's three interceptions in the last game."

He grabbed the wine, pouring more into his glass. "Yeah, let's avoid talking about that as much as possible, thanks." He smiled in the direction of Lyla, who tilted her head slightly to Jess, who was beginning to bicker about plays with Tim, who apparently didn't agree with the way she'd organized her last game. He always seemed to have an opinion as a coordinator or coach, but Vince had yet to see him out there actually doing it rather than commenting. Beauty of being Riggins, he guessed. He smiled back at Lyla, shaking his head slightly, silenting answering her question.

Her brow wrinkled with concern and she nodded again, mouthing 'I'm sorry.'

'Don't be,' he mouthed back. He leaned back in the glider, lifting his foot to the wicker coffee table, slouching down and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It'd be okay. It'd all work out, he thought, opening his eyes again, looking at Lyla taking a quick check at her phone. He thought back to her locking the door. The rumor was that she had a secret board everywhere she went. Had one at Oakland and the board had made its way here. Lyla was a master at deals.

Vince released a deep breath. He just wondered what she'd have to give up to get him to Dallas. Wondered if it was worth it. He pulled out his phone when it buzzed, smiling down at a picture Becky had sent him of his mother manning a booth at one of the fundraising events. He'd have to drive out there tonight, better stop drinking, he thought, setting the wine aside. Regina was doing well. Becky was helping…he smiled sideways at Jess. His gaze made its way back to Lyla, who was now frowning hard at her phone.

It wasn't worth it, he thought, closing his eyes again. He'd make this his last season. He'd call Jason later.


	18. The Trade

**A/N:**Sorry for the delay, I've been busy. This is all starting to pull itself together into the end, but I'm not sure how many chapters left it will be. Thanks for the reviews, patience, and hope you enjoy :)

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**18. The Trade**

"You are like the second coming of Jerry Jones or something."

The look he got in return was worth the risk of making such a statement. He flicked off the television, which had stock footage of Lyla on the practice field from last year running behind the talking heads, who were still going on, after two weeks since the official announcement, about Lyla Mary Garrity being named the first female General Manager of a National Football League team. If he thought it was bad when she'd been named VP the year before, now it was positively insanity.

There were damn cameras outside of the house, so they'd escaped from Dallas to Dillon, where Lyla could work fine until she had to be back at Headquarters to start going over the scouting reports and information and then prepare for the Combine. He knew she wasn't going to go to that; not many managers did, that's why they had scouts. Billy was basically wetting himself over it, Tim thought, reaching for his phone and sending a text to his older brother.

_Fuck you, I am not wetting my pants over this._

Whatever. They'd all moved out to Dallas, selling the old house, which had been bittersweet, but Tim figured it was about time someone actually live there who cared about the place. He had his home now in the boonies of Dillon, Lyla had their mansion in Dallas, and the entire rest of the Riggins clan which had practically signed a covenant with God never to leave Dillon had settled outside of Dallas, where Mindy had found an actual club to manage and the kids were enjoying themselves at their new school. It made no real sense for them to stay in Dillon, they'd just all start school over for the winter semester.

He twisted his wedding ring around on his left hand; it felt itchy sometimes and he still wasn't used to it there. Sometimes he caught Lyla playing with hers as well, like it was also bothering her. He'd say no to the ring if he weren't consistently hit on in the skybox when he went without it. It was like the ring kept them away but not the crazy lady that happened to run the entire freaking team that often sat beside him.

He flicked the curtains aside, staring out the window at the land. It had been well kept by Luke and Becky during his extended absences, but he knew that they just didn't have the time to do some things he planned on doing this summer. Lyla intended on commuting to Dallas when she was needed and operating out of her office in his house. Covered in boards and craziness, like her one in Dallas and at team headquarters. He sighed, glancing over his shoulder at his wife, who was angrily pounding her fingers on the keyboard of her computer. "What's wrong with you?" he asked.

"Word to the wise husband, don't ever start a question with an accusatory statement."

"What?"

She glared over the top of the laptop. "Nevermind. I'm fine. I could do without the national media acting like a woman running a football team wasn't the first time a woman was given power. We've finally had a female President, so what's the big deal?"

"Running the country is nothing compared to running a football team." He sat down across from her, got another glare, and grinned. "At least in Texas."

"Sad, but true."

He slouched in his chair, his arms on either side, watching as she worked, pencils sticking in her hair. She was wearing one of his massive t-shirts, torn in the sleeves and frayed at the hem, along with a pair of pink checked pajama pants, mismatched socks, and she was running on several cups of coffee in the middle of the day. "You're hot," he said. He kept his voice monotone, still slumped in the chair. She was ignoring him. "I could jump you right now. Just take you right here in the middle of the living room. Maybe against the fridge, that'd be really good. It's the pajama pants. Maybe it's the tube socks, I mean yeah, seeing your wife wearing socks that rival mucklucks is really what gets a guy going. Or maybe it's the pencils holding up your hair. Or the fact that you haven't showered in three days. Or slept. Or eaten solid foods. No way, I got it, it's how I'm going on talking for twenty minutes about jumping you in your current state and you haven't done shit."

He finally stopped, staring at her when she looked up, a pen in between her teeth. "I'm working," she said through grit teeth. "I got shit to do Riggins, you try running a football team. I thought my old job was hard, I'm reading reports, watching game film…this is busy and I'm trying to implement a new system while Clinton is on his mandated vacation."

"Clinton is going to murder you in your sleep and probably me if you put some new system in without telling him."

"That's probably true, but it needs done, I have a way of organizing all the potentials, versus ones I want to workout, I mean, Tim this is a BFD."

He squinted. "Do you eve know what BFD stands for?"

Lyla paused, staring at him before flashing a smile. "I'm a BFD."

Yes, you really are, he thought, getting out of the chair and walked into the kitchen, putting on another pot of coffee, set her empty mugs in the dishwasher and removed a cold carton of Chinese food from the fridge, heating it up a bit in a clean bowl, which he brought over to her and exchanged out the cereal bowl from this morning. He kissed the top of her head, sighed, and rested his chin on her shoulder. "You really need to shower," he said, leaning slowly over and dropped the lid of her laptop. The lack of fight at his movement signaled she agreed. He kissed her cheek, helping her off the couch and pointing her down the hall towards their room. "Go clean up."

"Come with me?"

Shit. That'd be good, since it had been a few days, but he sighed, dropping a kiss to her forehead. "You need to relax."

"You relax me," she said, kissing him lightly and looping her arms around his neck. She arched an eyebrow at the sound of the doorbell, smiling sheepishly. "That's a work meeting."

He stared down at her attire. Casual was all well and good but even he didn't think it was work appropriate to meet in slept-in grunge clothes. Unless…he spun on his heel, running to the door. "Six!" He flung it open, revealing his best friend sitting on the other side of the threshold, a bag over his knees. "What's up?" He'd missed him. It had been awhile since he'd seen him, not since the wedding at Christmas.

"In town to meet with the General Manager of the Dallas Cowboys for our very first official meeting as agent and…oh my." Jason pushed his sunglasses down his nose, staring at Lyla. He rolled his eyes sideways to Tim, before glancing back at her again. He cleared his throat. "Tim please tell me that you didn't get her pregnant yet."

"What!?" they both exclaimed at once.

Lyla held up a finger, arching her eyebrows. "I will tell you something Jason Street, I will get pregnant when I feel like getting pregnant and I won't do it just because Tim does it to me." She paused, rolling her eyes at the snickers. "Well I mean, yes I will because…nevermind, the answer is no I'm not pregnant and why would you think that?" She instantly pulled her t-shirt around her stomach, mumbling. "I don't look it."

Keep eating the Chinese food and we'll talk, Tim wanted to say, but he wisely kept his mouth shut. This was Jason's noose to wriggle himself out of. In fact, it'd be pretty amusing to watch. "I'm getting a beer," he said, walking to the kitchen, ignoring Lyla's snap how it wasn't even noon yet. Whatever. Entertainment required a drink in your hand. He removed the cap off a Lone Star, walking back into the living room to see Lyla squaring off on Jason, who was mumbling something about how Erin always laid around in sweats all day when she was pregnant.

Nice logic there Six. He flopped back on the couch, watching it for a few minutes before he dove in, changing tactics completely. "Garrity you were just going to take a break or something, right? Leave Six and I to talk, you can dot he shop thing later."

She glowered at Jason for another moment. "I was planning on cleaning up for you, now we're having our meeting so I'm not going to stop and go change into a suit and heels, come over to the table, I need to go over some things with you on…"

"I'm not talking about Vince's contract," Jason immediately said. He glanced at his watch, shaking it out a little and frowned. He took a deep breath, slowly releasing it and then rolled his eyes upward. "In fact, I'm not going to have the meeting. Riggins, I'll take that beer, it's five o'clock somewhere I guess. Lyla, go clean up, you look terrible, and we'll have ourselves a good old fashioned Texas Forever meeting before the real football stuff."

That sounded alright to him. He sipped his beer, glaring at Lyla, daring her to protest against both of them. She finally turned on her heel, after a second of just looking on them, and went down the hallway to the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind her. "Come on," he said, going out onto the sunroom he'd added before the winter. It was nice, he could still look out and see everything even when it was cold and rainy, like today was. He leaned back in a chair, kicking his feet up and propped them on Jason's wheelchair as Jason swiveled himself up and out onto another chair, expertly maneuvering. He waited for Jason to settle before smiling sadly. "Getting pretty good at that."

"Well it's been almost twenty years, so…" Jason trailed off, looking straight out the window at the land. He smiled, but it wasn't sad. They'd had their sad, bittersweet moments about this place a long time ago. "I love this place. Told Erin once that it was like my second home. I thought she was upset about it, but she said that she always thought it was."

I love this place too. He twisted the bottle around on the armrest of his chair, his voice soft. "Lyla's passed out asleep in there, hope you know that."

"I know."

He kept his voice firm. This was Husband Tim talking, not Friend Tim. He didn't want to confuse Jason with the multiple Tims that his head could randomly switch on and off with. "And you're not waking her up to talk about salary bonuses and extensions and buyouts and shit, okay?" He sipped he beer, whispering. "She needs rest." She needed a damn vacation was what she needed. This was just getting into the busy time, he knew that, but…hell she shouldn't be this stressed. It wasn't Lyla.

Jason waited a moment, his eyes narrowed. He smiled softly. "You love her. It shows Riggins."

"Well I hope Il ove her, I married her, didn't I?"

"Erin meant to tell you that the wedding was lovely. Best one she'd been to."

It was lovely, he figured. He'd picked a night when he knew just about everyone they cared about would be in town. Becky had gotten ordained on the Internet and performed the ceremony outside on the porch. Mindy had strung Christmas lights everywhere. Billy was his best man. In lieu of any friends, Tyra had stood in as Lyla's maid-of-honor, much to her displeasure, and Matt Saracen was the photographer. They'd gotten food from Rays, he wore an all-black nice outfit and Lyla had been in a cream colored dress that her mother had found in California, told to put it on for 'fun' and then walked downstairs just as Mrs. Taylor had passed her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Tulips. Lyla was easy, he figured. Her wedding would have three things. Tulips, family, and him. Done.

He'd guessed correctly and she'd been a mushy mess the entire night, even after she'd practically killed him for surprising her with a wedding instead of just proposing like a normal human. "I'm not normal," he'd reminded her. "And neither are you."

He closed his eyes, slouching back in the chair and whispered. "She's working too hard."

"You know Lyla. She gets her teeth into something…"

"And she doesn't let go, I know. This Vince thing is just…" She'd been taking it too much. It wasn't about the Cowboys at this point. It was about getting Vince home to be with his mother, ignoring the fact that Vince had openly said once his contract with Oakland was over, if he couldn't get to the Cowboys, he'd leave the NFL, which he didn't mind. Everyone else minded because Vince was a damn good quarterback and deserved to keep playing.

He understood that, but at the same time, Vince was a big boy. If Vince wanted to quit the NFL to come back home to Texas to ensure that his mother was healthy and happy, that was Vince's business. To be honest, he didn't have parents he gave two shits about anymore. One of them was dead that he knew of for sure. Mom? Hell, he hadn't seen his mother since he was 13-years old. Given how she'd lived, he was pretty sure she was dead too. It didn't matter, but at the same time, Lyla was killing herself for her friend.

Some might say Vince was her best friend. He liked to think that HE was her best friend, and Jason, but Vince had been with Lyla during her adults years. It was a little different. "She's going to be fine Tim, you know how she is. She'll come off the ledge soon enough, remember the Christian phase? That went away eventually."

After like months. Months where he wanted to kill her for being so desirable at the same time so annoying. "She pisses me off," he mumbled, rolling his eyes. "Makes me want to strangle her."

"And jump her, amiright?"

"Yes. Damnit." He sighed, shaking his head. "She's like a porcupine. In a tiara."

"With heels."

"And she knows football. Hell, I'm screwed Six. I think she's going to be around forever, annoying me, driving me crazy, and ruining my life."

"I think you might be right. Your life just sucks."

It really does, he thought forlornly, but smiled. It was a good life, he thought, closing his eyes again. He folded his hands on his stomach. He knew what Six was thinking about. What he was going to say, so he headed it off at the pass. "No kids Six. Lyla's kid is her career. No kids."

"I wasn't going to say a thing," Jason said, feigning shock. He pulled his beer bottle towards him with his good right hand, flexing his fingers and wincing a little at what Tim knew to be slight pain. It was still hard for him to grip things with his right hand, but he'd made such progress. There was even talk about him getting some surgeries to regain feeling in his legs, but it didn't seem like Jason was interested in it. Neither was Erin. "Good for you guys though. When you're ready, you'll be ready."

I'll never be ready for anything, but that's another thing. Tim closed his eyes again. He sighed slowly, his voice quiet. A question suddenly popped into his head. "Were you ever jealous of Garrity and me? Friendwise?"

"Jealous?"

"Not jealous, just…I don't know." I don't even know what I'm talking about or why. He opened his eyes again. Lyla was killing herself over Vince. It was starting to wear on him, because he didn't like seeing her in such turmoil over attempting to make THE DEAL. It was all capitalized in his opinion because once she had accomplished THE DEAL, he figured she'd finally settle into just living her life and treating the GM position like a real job and not some calling. Lyla and her Savior Complex. It'd be the death of all of them. He wasn't even sure why he was bringing it up to Jason of all people.

Jason sipped his beer. A few minutes of comfortable silence passed. He chuckled. "No." No? No what? He frowned. Jason shook his head, his voice quiet. He glanced away, to his chair, set beside the wicker couch he was seated on. "I mean…I wasn't thrilled to find out about you guys…but at least you weren't with other people when you hooked back up again, I guess."

"Sorry." He still felt the need to apologize for that for some reason. It'd been practically fifteen years and he still felt that painful twist in his gut at what had happened. He swallowed hard. "Sorry Six."

"Riggins seriously? You and Lyla are married, I'm married and I have two kids. One of which came along only two years after all that happened back in high school, forget it." Jason sighed hard, closing his eyes briefly before he opened them again. "I wasn't thrilled Tim, but I definitely wasn't…jealous wasn't the emotion. I just guess I felt weird that you guys had this connection I'd been completely oblivious to for as long as Lyla and I were together. Until I remembered that you guys had known each other longer. I only moved here in eighth grade. You guys were in elementary school together."

He smiled, suddenly remembering something. A journalist would kill to have the story nowadays. "Lyla was seven," he whispered, smiling and staring out at the pond in the distance. He brushed the rim of his bottle of beer to his lips, grinning. "We were playing Pee Wee at the time. She was in the little cheer camp thing. The coach was this guy…Harrison I think his name was. He was awful. She came over when they put this kid, you didn't know him, he moved to Oklahoma before we became Panthers. Anyway…so this kid was like a genius at corner. For Pee Wee at least. He puts him in the O-line. I mean we were seven, it wasn't like we were fighting for Heismans, you know?"

"How have I never heard this story?" Jason laughed.

"Hell if I know Six, but anyways, so he puts this kid there and Lyla, all seven of her mind you, with her hair in pigtails and carrying her pompoms yells over that he was doing it wrong," Tim laughed. He remembered the look on the faces of the coaches. Only reason they gave her an ounce of a second was because Buddy Garrity was her father and they wanted coaching jobs with the Panthers, not Pee Wee. "She marches over all annoyed and says that he's better at defense than offense and was anyone going to help her."

"What'd you do?"

"I didn't help her, what'd you think? I was in timeout anyway for decking Bobby Young when he stepped in front of me on a play."

"Of course you did."

You had to fight back when you were me at seven Six, he felt like saying. He wasn't the same person he'd been when they'd met. Through Lyla, of all people. He smiled a little. "They told her to go back to cheerleading because she was a girl. She said she was a person not a girl and went back to cheerleading. Lyla Garrity's first moment of defiance against other people."

"What happened to her? Lyla I met would never have done that. It'd be considered impolite," Jason said, frowning slightly.

Tim shrugged. People changed. He'd been a tiny kid that learned to fight back and ultimately became the bully. Only way to survive at the time. He wasn't proud of it. He didn't know how they'd gotten off on this tangent. He rolled his eyes sideways to Jason. "Between friends."

"Yeah," he whispered.

He ran his tongue over his teeth, looking back out and kept his voice down. "She got a shot at trading in the draft for Vince Howard?"

Jason shook his head, not saying a word. Tim thought that was it, until his best friend turned to look at him, swallowing hard. "Browns," he said. He nodded quickly, darting his eyes to the house. His voice dropped, hurried. "She needs to look at the Cleveland Browns."

What was that supposed to mean? "And?" he asked.

"I can't get into it, but she needs to look there." He waited a moment, his voice quiet. "They have three picks in the first round. But not the first and not the second and not the third. Who has one of those, Tim?"

That would be the Cowboys, he thought, his mind suddenly flashing with the answer. He frowned though, whispering. "They have a franchise quarterback. What do they have that Lyla can trade for? And what's it matter, Vince is in Oakland?"

"Yeah but Oakland's got something they want."

"So they can just trade with Oakland. They have a second pick."

"Lyla will figure it out." He waited a moment, his voice soft. "Something's going to come down in a couple of days with Cleveland. She'll know then, but if you put the bug in her ear now, it'll be easier for her. Also, it can't come from me Tim. I just violated a agent-client thing with you right now. It can't come from me, just put the bug in her ear to start sniffing. She'll get it. She's the tiara-wearing porcupine."

I'm never going to tell her we call her that, he thought, chuckling. The Browns, huh, he thought, shaking his head. He glanced back at Jason. "She's doing this just for Vince. So you know why I asked about that whole…jealous thing, right?"

"You don't get jealous Tim."

"No."

"Lyla gets jealous, so watch your friendship with Tyra."

He waved his hand, blowing that off. Everyone always said that, but it wasn't a big deal. "Whatever."

"That's what you say until Lyla is in jail for murder or assault."

"She'd never kill Tyra."

Jason snorted. "I was talking about you my friend."

Whatever, he thought again, although he did glance over his shoulder briefly at the house. He didn't see Lyla standing there with a knife, so he slouched farther in his chair and crossed his ankles. It'd all work out, he thought. He was sure of it. Look at this, he felt like saying to Jason. You break your spine and all hope of the ranch, the ladies, and the money were gone. Yet here we are. "Funny how Lyla was the one who ended up giving us the ranch," he murmured.

"You gave it to yourself Tim. This is yours."

"And yours."

"And Lyla."

I'm the caretaker, he thought vaguely. Didn't he say something like that? I'm the caretaker Street. He smiled, his eyes half-opened. "Funny how life works out. It's me and Lyla here…no ladies stocked up, no partying, just…the ranch and us."

Jason grinned, leaning over and clinked their beer bottles. "Texas forever Riggins." He said nothing, but knocked the bottle back into Jason's. Yes, he thought. Texas Forever.


	19. The Workout

**19. The Workout**

Lyla leaned back in the hard plastic seat, studying the quarterback working out in front of her. She didn't want to pick him. She didn't want to pick the Heisman winner from three years ago who she'd watched this morning. Or the phenomenon that was coming to the complex later. She pursed her lips when he slipped up on a simple combination, her eyes narrowing. "He's wearing gloves," she murmured.

"But he's a runner," Billy said, sitting beside her, mimicking her crossed-arm and leg position. He glanced sideways. "He'll do well with your offensive line. You need to take advantage of them."

"O-line protects the quarterback, I don't need them running all over the place having to anticipate his damn craziness."

"You can't get Vince Howard, Garrity, just deal with it and move on, this kid is good, do you know what happened when they spotted me at his last game last year? Suddenly every single NFL team was interested."

"They just don't want me to have him."

"And that's a big fucking deal."

Yes, it was. The fact that every decision she made was scrutinized in the media wasn't fun, but she was the anomaly. The rest of the other 31 GMs were freaking out because they couldn't anticipate her. She had no record, she was a freak to them. The weird one who was a woman and knew football and was married to a felon but damn, when they looked up his stats, that boy sure knew how to play football. Or at least, that's what one of the GMs told her at a benefit event the week before. "Thanks for checking my husband out, you'll give him an ego boost," she'd dryly replied.

"What's he think of a woman knowing more football than him?"

Her response to that comment had made Tim roll off the bed laughing when she'd relayed the story. She'd merely arched an eyebrow and said. "Turns him on." After which she'd swung up the skirts of her Stella McCartney ball gown and waltzed off to socialize with more modern individuals. It was sad, but true, that while she'd broken the glass-ceiling of women in sports management, there was still an imaginary ceiling above the broken glass that she had yet to fully reach. No one was going to crack that until people grew the hell up, but in her experience that would probably never happen.

She pushed her sunglasses up against the bright sunlight streaming in through the skylights above the practice field. These kids were living the dream. Plucked from small towns across America, played football for good schools, and in some cases won awards, championships, and endorsements. More money than they knew what to do with at the age of twenty. Now they were working out that talent for the manager of the Dallas Cowboys, hoping their name would get called by the Commissioner in a few weeks in New York.

It was counting down now. Only six more weeks until the draft and she was still figuring things out. "Something weird happened the other day," she blurted out, watching the kid get put through his paces by her offensive coordinator and her quarterbacks coach. Shit, I need to get Eric Taylor to work for me, she thought idly, her legs crossing.

Billy was the only one sitting with her, since she requested to be alone during these endless workout sessions. "Yeah? You know when Tim shuts down you just gotta' roll with it."

"He's not shutting down." Well he kind of shut down. Something had happened when Jason came to visit. Some sort of conversation she wasn't a part of and he'd been a bit distant, but nothing she couldn't handle. She glanced at Billy. "You don't like us together, why are you giving me advice?"

"I don't not like you together," he mumbled, pulling his arms tight around himself. He stretched out his feet, shrugging a shoulder. "I just thought that…for awhile I thought Tyra might be the better fit. Then I realized that that was stupid. I didn't want my sister-in-law back with my brother. Would be too weird that we'd both gotten together with a set of sisters."

"That would be weird."

"Apparently it's not incest."

She smirked, pushing her sunglasses farther on her nose again. "Yeah, well it's creepy, I get it." She was having a grown-up conversation with Billy. Would wonders ever cease? She cleared her throat, a slight tinge of nerves tingling in her stomach. "You don't think they…"

Billy snorted. "You and Tim are secure." He waited a moment, whispering. "I think Landry's going to file for divorce."

Holy shit. They'd only been married like six months! She cleared her throat again. What was she supposed to say to that? "Really?" she murmured.

"Tyra's too involved with her career…she likes San Francisco but I know she's itching to return to Austin. The irony isn't lost that she wants to come back to Texas after getting out, but…well Landry's got some deal in L.A."

They were two incredibly different people. She swallowed hard. Neither deserved the pain that would surely come with a divorce. "I'm sorry," she whispered. She tightened her hands in her lap, sighing. "Back to my original point."

"Yeah, Tim being weird. What else is new Lyla?"

"No he just…he said something to me…" I don't know why I'm sharing this with you, I truly don't. It wasn't any of Billy's damn business for one. They weren't friends, for another, but…outside of Jason and Vince, she didn't trust people in this world. Even then she was wary of Jason because he did have clients to attend to and that was his business. Vince was only looking out for Vince as well. She bit her lower lip. "I have a board," she whispered.

"A board?"

"Yes, a mock draft board, like the ones we have here. The ones we go over day in and day out and will continue to do for the next six months. I have a board at home that's…it's basically my insider thoughts and knowledge no one else knows." She knew Billy wouldn't tell anyone this. She didn't know how she knew, she just did. She sighed, shaking her head. "I came in one morning and Tim had written in big orange letters 'Cleveland Browns.' I asked him why, he said that he couldn't tell me how he knew, which means Jason Street, but that I needed to look there."

And so she'd started looking. Didn't know what the hell he was talking about. Asked around, casually, and nothing. That was like two weeks ago. She glanced at Billy, who had suddenly begun shifting in his seat like he had ants in his drawers. She squinted. He kept looking at her and then at the quarterback and then at her again until he finally caved under the sheer terror of her look. "Okay so…I was at the Combine and when I was there, I overheard a couple Browns scouts mention that their star receiver, you know who, got himself into a spot of trouble. Took a bit too much cough medicine and got behind the wheel. Crashed it into a car with some kids."

I don't like hearing these stories. I hate hearing these stories because they put you into awkward positions, especially if it was scuttlebutt. "So?" she snapped. "Get to the point."

Billy sighed heavily, his voice quiet. "I don't know much, but I guess the management found out not too long ago that Daddy paid off the family, you know that family Garrity, they're loaded and they don't believe in consequences for little baby football legend…so he paid off the family. They've been getting money from him for a few years now. Management is going to cut him and turn him in, they're just waiting on the right time to release."

Fuck. She wanted to scream. She jumped up from the chair, ignoring Billy shouting after her and ran for her office. Clinton sprang out of his chair. "I got that thing you asked for," he said, following her in and over to her desk. He sighed dramatically. "It's in the bathroom but I told you I don't do your personal lady errands for you."

"Go away," she snapped, enough authority in her voice that Clinton was running with his tail between his legs. She sank into the seat, typing into her computer. She drew up the spreadsheets of all the rosters for the entire NFL, scanning the list of the Browns players. There he was, she thought, smirking and staring at the name. She grabbed the phone, punching her speed dial.

"Street."

"When were you going to tell me that J.D. McCoy crashed his car into a family and Daddy decided to pay them off without telling management?"

Jason was silent. "Who says it was him?"

"Browns only have McCoy and they only put up with him because he can catch the ball better than he could throw it in high school. I know that management, they're solid, they are not going to stand for this, he's out of there, they won't care how many yards he ran for or caught for or whatever for. They won't even care if he goes and does his penance, they are going to cut him and they are going to ensure that no one in the NFL lets him on their team, which means they are going to have a franchise quarterback who doesn't have anyone to throw the ball too and they will want that kid from USC, that beast of a kid who can catch a ball with his hands behind his back, but they can't because they only have three picks in the lower half," she rattled off, her mind racing a mile a minute.

I'm glad I know of this now. Once it got out, everyone was going to be clamoring. Screaming. She closed her eyes, her voice soft. "I can do this Jason. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't tell you anything because I can't tell you anything." He paused. After a second, he chuckled. "Someone else can."

"Is that why he's been so weird lately?"

"I don't know about that, it's probably just him being weird, you can't guess on those things Lyla." Jason paused. "What about Melanie? Did she have her baby? That might have gotten him weird."

Yes, Melanie and Jeff were parents to a bouncing baby boy. The little one had already received a Tiffany's rattle and a cashmere christening blanket from the Riggins Family. She'd signed Tim's name to the card. That wouldn't put him in such an annoyed state though. She bit her lower lip. I can do this. "I have to start working," she said. It was in sight, she just had to work it. Now that there was something to work.

"Go for it Garrity. By the way, can you imagine JD McCoy in an orange jumpsuit?"

"Well blue and yellow were certainly never his colors."

They spoke for a few minutes more, until Jason had to go to a meeting. She waited another minute before calling Clinton into the office. Clinton just glared at her. "I'm waiting," he said, quiet.

Lyla sighed, smiling gently. "I am sorry," she said. She held out her hands to her sides. "You do more for me than just about anyone, you put up with my moods, and you even run lady errands for me even though I know it's not in your contract that you're required to do that. I wouldn't be here without you Clinton, that's the truth." She smiled. "I'm sorry for yelling at you like that. I won't do it again."

"No, you won't, because you've never done it before." Clinton set a pink message slip on her desk, tapping his finger to it. "A guy named Joe McCoy called. Said he wanted to talk to you about the prospect of taking his son on as wide receiver. Seemed to indicate you were old friends or something and that JD is just tired of Lake Erie and wants some Texas Hill Country."

Ass. She picked up the slip and dialed the number back, waiting until the slimy voice answered. "Joe, this is Lyla Garrity, General Manager and President of the Dallas Cowboys, I wanted to let you know that I am not interested in picking up your son as wide receiver, quarterback, or any football position you could conceivably come up with. I wouldn't even sign him to be the waterboy or the guy who washes the jock straps." She paused, listening to Joe McCoy on the other end try to interrupt, but she kept going, summoning every ounce of authority she possessed. "Further, I want to remind you that we are not friends, nor will we ever be friends, and that I was telling my dad in high school that he was a fool for ignoring Matt Saracen who even though he is a professional artist and hasn't played football in over fifteen years, will still always be a better football player than your entitled bitchy little baby JD." She waited a second before pouring sugar into her soft Texas accent. "And go ahead and tell the papers I said no to you. Have a good day now."

She slammed the phone down, looking up at the slow clap of Tim and Billy standing in the doorway. She smirked. Thank you, thank you very much. "I could jump you now," Tim said, still wearing his sunglasses while Billy mimed gagging. He did shake his head, sarcastically commenting. "That was so un-Christian though."

"I'll pray for forgiveness later." She had a lot of work to do on this. This was a BFD, to use Tim's terminology. She stood up, walked over to him, and pulled him down, kissing him hard. It was unprofessional, especially in front of her assistant and one of her scouts.

Especially since her offensive coordinator also happened to just walk in. Tom Moore smiled quickly at her. He was a holdover from the Ellison days. She liked him, he went to a Big10 school and previously worked for years with the New England Patriots, but she still liked him. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, his voice tinged with a Boston accent. He flashed her another smile. "Did you hear the news? Little Baby McCoy got himself in a spot of trouble even Daddy can't control."

"They knew what they were getting into picking up that guy."

"Spoke with a source with the Browns. They're open to any trade you want, just call Jim Brown."

It was ironic that their manager was named after inarguably the best Cleveland Browns player there ever was, she thought vaguely, smiling quickly. "I'm working on some things. I'll let you know. What can I do for you?"

"Our meeting?"

Oh shit, that's right, they were going to go over game film for some of the tight ends they were interested in acquiring. She waved her fingers at Billy and Tim. "Get out. Clinton, thank you, I'll talk to you later." She had to get back to work. Her heart was positively dancing. She chewed out Joe McCoy, which was what probably everyone in Dillon had wanted to say they'd been able to do, and the prospect of getting Vince was even further in sight.

She sat down on her couch, crossing her legs and drew her giant portfolio to her as Jim queued up the film on the screen in her little sitting area, both of them beginning to argue over some small school prospects. She was a proponent of getting the little guy, but Tom was big everything. Big10, Big12, he wouldn't even look at MAC schools.

It took a few hours, but finally she was done with Tom. She flicked off the lights in her office, picking up the phone to call Tim. It rang a couple times before he answered. "You coming home anytime soon?"

"I think I am going to take off early. In fact…" she spun around in her chair, staring out at the field beneath her. Lyla's Domain. She purred, twirling her finger through her hair. "I think that I might even be willing to bring home some pizza and beer."

"Throw in that red thing I saw you wearing the other day and we have a deal."

"And then I'm putting on my striped pajama pants."

"The old man pants? I'm fine with that," he teased. He seemed to be grinning through the phone. "You sound better than you were. This McCoy thing must have you spinning."

"And dancing on air. Has it hit the news yet?"

"Sources report that the Cleveland Browns have immediately released JD McCoy from his contract and are cooperating in any and all local criminal investigations."

This really is the best work day, she thought, getting up and walking into the bathroom. She closed the door behind her, reaching in and removing the items that she'd had Clinton go out and get, poor guy. "You call for pizza and I'll stop and pick up more beer."

"And the red thing."

"I'm wearing it." She hung up, leaving him with that thought. She set the items out in a neat little row, staring at them. Why did they have such stupid names? They always made it sound like you were peeing in meadows or something. She sighed, picking up the first pregnancy test and flicked open the end, removing it and lifted her face to the mirror. I'm so tired, she thought, closing her eyes briefly as she turned around, setting out with her little experiment.

That night she walked into the house, carrying the six-pack and pizza. Tim appeared at her side almost immediately. "Pizza," he sang, taking the box and the beer from her, not even bothering with a kiss as he skidded in his socks to the kitchen. He turned around, grinning at her. "What if we get a dog?"

A dog? She smiled quickly. "I think we might be busy. Who would let it out during the day?"

"We could get one of the neighbor kids. Or let Molly Cafferty watch it or something."

"Molly just turned six, do you really think that Luke and Becky want to throw a dog into the mix?" She removed a piece of pizza, taking a nibble. She wasn't hungry. She shrugged out of her jacket, setting it on the back of the barstool in front of the counter. Her hand rested on the top. She sighed, lifting her eyes to Tim. "Come here," she whispered.

He set the piece of pizza he was eating on the counter, frowning and walked over to her, brushing her hair from her face. He stroked his hands down to her cheeks and settled them on the back of her neck, lowering his nose to brush over hers. "What's wrong? You were happy on the phone," he murmured, kissing her lightly. He kissed her again. "Want a beer?"

She shook her head, saying nothing as he stepped away to open up a beer for himself. Another moment passed and she walked over to him again. Don't say anything, she told herself. As much as you want to say something, you can't, she thought again, reaching up to kiss him again, and wrapped her arms tighter around his neck. "I love you," she whispered, shaking her head slightly. Just say it Garrity. She would...eventually. She just wanted him to know this. In case it was why he'd just been distant lately. She swallowed hard, taking her nerves with it. "And this is just a job. I understand about Vince, although I know it doesn't seem like it. I love him like a brother Tim. I love you like a lover." She smiled again, her voice quiet. "And anything that happens…you will always come first. This family will always come first."

There. I said it. In case he was worrying about it. He wrapped his arms even tighter around her, burying his face into her neck. I didn't mean to get sappy, she thought, closing her eyes briefly. "What's got into you?" he mumbled. "You sick or something?"

Or something. She kissed him again. "After the Combine," she whispered, letting go of him and walking over to the archway leading to the foyer. She wiggled her finger, grinning. "You want to know something?"

"Always."

"That red thing?"

Tim's eyes immediately darkened. "Yeah?"

Lyla turned around, sashaying upstairs. "I'm not wearing anything." She grinned when he ran up the stairs, snagging her around her waist and hauling her over his shoulder. She shrieked, kicking her feet, sending her high heels flying. She laughed, falling backwards onto the bed when he set her back down in their room, sitting up quickly and blowing her hair from her face. "Where are you going?" she laughed, as Tim ran out of the room.

"Beer."

"Get candles too!" she shouted. She rolled over onto her side, reaching for her phone, making a quick phone call. There was so much to do. So, so much, but…hell. She got Clinton's voicemail, which she expected since he turned off his work phone immediately at seven, per their agreement. "Hey Clinton, this is Lyla. I'm taking a quick few days and then I need you to make me an appointment with my doctor." She paused. "Those things I sent you to get were positive." She hung up, knowing that he would keep that to himself, turning her head as Tim came back into the room, carrying the pizza box, his beer, and some candles. "You have the lighter?"

"You should have it."

"Such an ordeal," Lyla groaned. It always was this way. She liked a little romance, which Tim could be clueless on. She set the candles around, lighting them and then fell back onto the bed as Tim set the box of pizza between them. "So no dinner after?"

"We're carbing up."

"Good, I told Clinton I'm taking the weekend."

Tim stopped midbite. He swallowed the piece he'd begun chewing, gulping it more like, his face a mask of confusion. "Huh?" Yeah, I know, she thought, smiling fast. Foreign. He squinted, his voice soft. "Who are you and what have you done with Lyla Garrity?"

Lyla Garrity took a vacation, she thought, leaning over and took his pizza from him, biting into it and grinning as she chewed. "Some things are just…different now. Bigger picture." Not just football. It was just a couple of days. She'd be back to being the manager on Monday. She smiled again. Draft Day would be interesting. She'd probably be showing then. This whole thing was going to be interesting. Balancing act, so to speak. She turned her head to Tim. "Would you want to stay home with the kids? If we ever had any? I mean…it'd be hard to take off, with my job."

Tim shrugged. "Being a stay at home dad? Doing nothing but playing with my kids, eating pizza, and drinking beer? No work or bosses?" He shrugged again, arching his eyebrow. "Yeah, I'd do that." It is more work than you think Riggins, she felt like saying. He squinted. "Why?"

Not until it was confirmed for sure. She leaned in, kissing him. "No reason." She leaned in to kiss him again when his phone rang on the nightstand. "No, no, no, this is my time with you," she groaned, as he pulled away from her to check it.

"You do this to me all the time, it's payback." He checked the phone number, waving it in the air and jumped over her to the other side of the bed. "It's Coach, I told him about the Joe McCoy thing. Hang on. What's up Coach?" He was already out the door, laughing at something.

Well at least he's happy too, she thought, hitting her head back on the pillows. She closed her eyes, turning and staring at her reflection in the wide expanse of windows around their bedroom. She rolled onto her back, sitting up a little and slowly pulled her shirt up to reveal her stomach. She tapped her toes together, swishing her lips around as she stared at the flat abdomen. "Hello in there," she murmured, not touching it. She lifted her eyebrow, whispering. "If you're even in there but…five different brand of tests all positive kind of say something. In any case, I promise I'll try to not screw this up." I'm not happy about this, she thought idly, brushing her knuckles over her stomach. It wasn't planned. It wasn't…expected. She didn't want to juggle all these things at once, but…like anything, she'd juggle it. She wanted to work, but…

My job is everything to me, but there are bigger things. Things they'd only vaguely planned together. It seemed like everything was moving fast when once upon a time ago it had been glacial. Hell, a year ago this May she was just returning to Texas and Tim wouldn't even really take her calls. He'd been with the wife of the Cowboys owner, both of them living boring lives until they finally pulled from their stupor. This change so oddly, she thought, lifting her head when Tim walked back into the room. "Coach says you should have recorded the conversation."

"We may have, we sometimes record conversations for legal purposes."

"Oh man that'd make his day."

"He never really has come out against the McCoys, has he?"

"He's too good of a guy to do that," Tim mumbled, sliding onto the bed. He frowned at her. "Why are you looking at your stomach?"

She waited a moment. You could tell him now. Or you could wait until its confirmed. Best wait, she thought. She smiled quickly. "I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. A big Cowboys helmet right on my hip."

"Oh God. Please don't."

"You need a paper towel, you're making a mess," she said, as Tim dropped toppings from the pizza into his mouth, missing and dropping them onto the comforter instead. She jumped over him, running down the hall to the stairs and to the kitchen, shouting over her shoulder. "Romantic night is over! Pick a movie!"

"You're such a homebody Garrity! We're going out!"

"We are not going out, we're watching a movie, so pick one damnit!" That was her first mistake. A few hours later, she was stretched out against his chest, watching 'Rudy' for the millionth time as Tim welled up when Sean Astin got his shot to play. Men, she thought, shaking her head and smiling, tightening her grip briefly around him. She closed her eyes, as the movie played, drifting off to a dreamless sleep, finally calm after these last tense few weeks. Everything was falling into place. Maybe not as she'd prefer, but still. It seemed to all be falling into place.


	20. The Booster

**A/N: **I seem to be averaging about one chapter a week so sorry about that. I'm trying to finish up this story. Let's just say the next chapter is titled 'The Draft Day.' So that should those who are still reading where we stand. This chapter sets it up a bit, at least from Lyla's perspective. Anyways, enjoy :)

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**20. The Booster**

"Jimmy?" Lyla called, walking down the sidelines of the training field, grinning wide at her head coach, Tyler Michaels, and Tom Moore the offensive coordinator. She offered her hand, taking the young quarterback's hand into hers, squeezing tight as she leaned in to kiss his cheek. "So good to finally meet you!"

I could with a freaking Oscar, she thought, pulling back, still beaming at the star quarterback. He was on the top of the list that Michaels and Moore wanted, since he was a moving quarterback, he had a rocket arm, and he was very, very, very good. Won a bunch of awards in college, was a media darling, and he came from a perfect family. Everything about the kid screamed desirable to the NFL, but she wasn't convinced. He was the fifth one she'd met with personally in the last week, but this was the one the media was wetting themselves over.

Jimmy Anderson grinned, looking like the perfect guy, with sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, and shiny white teeth. Too effing perfect, she thought, pulling back slightly from him. "Good to meet you too Ms. Garrity."

"Oh please, it's Lyla."

"As you say Ms. Garrity." He was from a wealthy family from Minnesota, originally playing hockey before transitioning to football. They made it big in trucking, if she remembered right. He had manners, she figured, but it was more annoying than respectful to her. He gestured to her stomach. "Well congratulations! I had no idea."

She pursed her lips; she was finally starting showing, but barely. "Yes," she said, her voice cooling as she patted her stomach. "Well thank you, let's talk about football, shall we?"

"I had no idea you were pregnant. That's amazing, really, juggling between family and football," he said, pursuing the issue. He gestured to her again. "I really don't know how you do it."

She tossed her hair from her eyes, beaming at him, her eyes widening slightly. "I do it because I don't let it get involved with football, now shall we talk about the game you had with Notre Dame where you were threw five interceptions? I'd like to hear about how you managed to overcome those issues for the next game."

Little shit bag, she thought, saying goodbye to him a couple of hours later, leaving him with Michaels and Moore. While he'd been talking with Moore, she'd pulled Michaels aside, telling him to keep looking. It wasn't that he'd been a shit, that was fine, most NFL players she'd met were shits, but it was the distasteful look he'd kept giving her at the idea of taking orders from a woman.

There were still more out there. She really wanted to use their number three pick on a defensive guy from Ohio State. Great player, good guy, she absolutely adored him when he'd come to tour the place last week. His Combine scores were through the roof and he had a great story. She pushed open the door to the hallway leading through the main area, waving to the press corps and Elaine, their PR lady, who was pulling him to the press conference room. "I'll talk to you guys in a few!" she called, keeping on walking to her office.

Clinton passed her messages, which she shoved into her folder, setting it down on the desk as she sank into her chair. Shit, she thought, leaning down and pulled off her shoes. Her feet were swelling. Mindy told her that she'd have to start buying her shoes one size more. Pregnancy was doing the weirdest things to her body. She picked up her phone, planning on calling Tim, when she saw that he'd texted her. _You can't come home, I painted the baby's room. Baby can't get fumes and have two heads._

Baby would be fine, she thought with a small smile, rubbing her almost nonexistent bump. "Daddy's nesting," she said to it. Tim had freaked out for the better part of three days after she'd broke the news to him. He'd gone into a weird sort of hiding, but then he'd come out of it and said he was all in. Now he was more into the whole parenting thing than she was, picking paint colors and building furniture. She leaned back in her chair, propping her feet up. She closed her eyes, seeing stats, scores, and the draft board downstairs in her mind.

I need to go to a yoga class. I need to relax, she thought, opening her eyes when Clinton walked into the office. "You have a visitor downstairs," he said. He scowled. "Unannounced."

"Who is it?" She picked up her phone. Vince had texted. _Don't kill yourself over this. You can't have your kid born stressed out. _I'm not stressing out, she thought, setting the phone back down. In fact, once JD McCoy had been carted off in handcuffs by the Cleveland Police Department, his dad going along with him for obstruction of justice, she'd calmed down considerably on the Vince front. She glanced up at Clinton. "What?"

"It's your husband's girlfriend."

"Tyra? She's not his girlfriend." She stood up, gesturing. "Call her in." What was Tyra doing here of all places? She walked out of the room, holding her portfolio. "Tell them to show her to the draft room." She'd been spending much of her time there, calling everyone she knew in the various teams. Her board was beginning to solidify. It was in three weeks.

She walked into the room, snapping her fingers at the various assistants and aides who were putting together packets on the various players, cutting game film, and generally keeping an eye on things. "I need the room," she called. She grinned at them all. "Thanks for all your work guys, take a break." She waited for them to leave before she walked over to the board, lightly touching her fingertips to the side of it, sending it lighting up.

They had several picks. The lesser ones were all in their spots. It was the top three she was worried about. Dallas had the third pick overall. They had the second pick in the second round. She ran her tongue over her teeth, looking at the question mark beside their pick, with Michaels's handwriting. 'Trade?' That was a question. Did they trade it? Who the hell knew? They weren't getting any interesting offers for it, that was for sure.

The number one pick was Houston. Again. Oakland was sitting at ten, even though she'd pegged them for a top spot, but they'd finished their last few games pretty well. Not where they wanted to be at all. She bit her lower lip, shaking her head. "What am I going to do?" she mumbled, her eyes dropping to the Browns with their first pick at number 6. They had 22. They also had 28. All the hard work of their previous management. They were gunning for a top three. The star wide receiver they'd desperately need would be off the board by six. She knew they'd offered up their 28 pick to Houston, along with their first round the next year, but Houston wasn't budging. They wanted something more.

I need Oakland, she thought, squinting at it. She picked up one of the phones, glancing up when Clinton led Tyra into the room. She held up her finger, punching a number from memory. After a moment, she grinned, her voice deepening into 'work voice.' "Hey there sunshine, it's Lyla Garrity. How is the weather in Houston?"

"Well hello there Ms. Garrity," the manager of the Texans drawled. He chuckled. "What's going on out there? You've got number three, I'm not trading down."

"And I'm not trading up," she chuckled. She was in a decent spot. She waited a moment, her voice quiet. "Heard the Browns want you. You fielding calls from them left and right, huh?"

"Yeah, it's driving me crazy. Who are you looking at?"

"Oh Chet you must be crazy if you think I'd tell you that."

"That Jimmy Anderson is pretty damn good. He'd fit in well there in Dallas. He's got that whole American boy thing going on for him. Bet he wasn't thrilled to hear you've got a little one on the way, he's got some pretty backwoods tendencies. So I've been told."

So I've noticed. I've got calls in to his former coaches as well, she thought, nodding slightly. "Yes, well let's keep my little one out of the conversation. So what would you trade for? Hypothetically of course."

Chet paused. After a moment, he sighed. "Well I don't know there Lyla. Probably a number five, but no less. A first round the next two years maybe. And a good player."

Hmm, she thought. She flashed another smile. "Thanks Chet. I'll talk to you later." She hung up, immediately dialing her contact with the Browns, their head coach. She cleared her throat. "Bobby it's Lyla Garrity, I don't have a lot of time but the Texas will trade one for two first rounds and a number five. You trade with the Vikings for five, you can trade with Houston. Maybe get yourself that USC player, he's worth it in my opinion."

"You just want something to give you leverage to get the Raiders to give you Vince. I don't know why you're worried, they have ten, they'll be dying for a three because they want Duane Wilson and he'll be off the board by the time ten comes along for them."

"Well I don't want to trade to ten. I've got my eye on a couple." The Ohio State kid, Vonn Dane, he'd still be up there, but she was still hedging her bets. She nibbled her lip. They'd trade if I got number one, she thought, smiling quick. "What if I told you that I was looking at number one," she murmured. She wasn't willing to give up two first rounds though.

"You've got twenty minutes into the draft before you're picking your quarterback. You're not trading up."

I would if I could trade to one, let Oakland trade with me so they could get the second most wanted guy in the draft, who would also be gone. A beast of a defensive back. They were dying on their defense. I need to get number one. That was her goal. Not because she wanted a number one pick, but…she wanted to trade. Make them an offer they couldn't refuse. She cleared her throat. "I might be interested in Duane Wilson." That was all she had to say. They were bad enough on their defense that it did hold legitimacy. In fact, they were looking at him, despite her defensive coordinator claiming they wouldn't be able because Oakland would take him immediately. It didn't matter though. She'd dropped the nugget.

This will all work out, she thought, disconnecting. She leaned against the table, her ankles crossed in front of her. As much as she loved wearing her high heels, she'd had to forgo them these past couple weeks for cowboy boots and flats, just because it was more comfortable with her growing belly. "What's up?" she asked Tyra, dropping the phone to the side of her portfolio. She covered her stomach with her hands, drawing Tyra's attention to it.

"Hello in there," Tyra said, lightly touching the top of it. She shuddered. "Creepy."

"What? Me?"

"There's a human in there. With Tim's DNA. Freaky." Tyra leaned back against the table next to her, sighing. She seemed sad. It was very Un-Tyra, in her opinion. Especially since she'd come here on her own volition. The other woman glanced at the board, shaking her head. "This is pretty intense. You guys take it so seriously."

"It's a multi-billion dollar industry."

That didn't appease Tyra, who just shrugged, blowing it off. She stood up and walked over to inspect the board. It was fairly high-tech. Touch-screen and all. They could manipulate it to move the names at the slightest touch. They could expand and narrow and click on them and open up the entire package of information available on the inmate. She touched one of the names, the image popping up. It was Anderson. "He's cute."

"He's a chauvinist."

"He's 12, you can be a chauvinist at 12?"

"Apparently you can." He was 22, but oh well. Lyla crossed her arms over her chest, her voice quiet. "You want to go grab something to eat? Lunch or something? I was going to take some work home…Tim's painting the baby's room, he doesn't want the fumes to hurt Baby."

That had Tyra smiling, even if it didn't meet her eyes. "Baby? He calls it Baby?"

"Yeah…he also calls it Rabbit. More than just Baby, Rabbit is a big name for him."

"Why Rabbit or do I not want to know?"

Lyla reached for Tyra's hand, slowly bringing it to her stomach. She arched an eyebrow at Tyra's cringing look. It was self-explanatory. She removed her hand, chuckling. "Yeah. Rabbit. This thing is just jumping around in there. Clearly has Riggins DNA." It seemed odd. The two of them standing there having a conversation. They were on absolute opposite ends of the spectrum for…well everything, she thought, cocking her head slightly. "Is there anything I can help you with?" she whispered, continuing to press her on why she was there.

It took a moment for the question to register. Tyra shook her head. "No. I just…was in the neighborhood."

"You live in Austin."

"I had a layover in Dallas…I just left the airport and here I am."

There was a sneaky feeling in Lyla's gut. She walked out of the draft room, after locking down the board and collecting her portfolio, leading Tyra out of the building and to her SUV. She'd left her bag in the backseat this morning, thankfully, and she always had a set of keys in her portfolio, so she climbed into the front, waiting on Tyra to settle in the passenger seat before she spoke again. "Did you miss your flight? You need a ride or something?"

Tyra didn't say anything. This was weird. She swallowed hard, driving away from Headquarters and make her way towards the highway. They drove without conversation, the only sound coming from the soft volume of the radio, which she'd left on ESPN Radio. She reached forward, turning it up a little. _"Rumors are flying! Sources close to the Dallas Cowboys say that GM Lyla Garrity is targeting University of Alabama defensive back Duane Wilson. The Cowboys are sitting pretty in the third slot, they can take him if they want, but Oakland has made all the noise int he world they'll trade ten to get the DB. The Texans have the first and the Minnesota Vikings have the second pick, both teams might be willing to take him, even though the Texans need to shore up their offensive line and the Vikings are desperate for a quarterback. Garrity needs a quarterback, but we all know of her love affair with Oakland Raiders QB Vince Howard. What are the odds of Garrity trading up to one and forcing the Raiders to trade with her so they can get their guy and she can get her man? Pretty high in our estimation."_

Tyra finally broke the silence. "You'd do that? Trade to one just to drop down to ten? For Vince?"

"Raiders are desperate. You do crazy things when you're desperate." She draped her arm over her steering wheel, darting her eyes to Tyra, who was staring forlornly out the window. It seemed like she was moping. Tyra Collette didn't mope. If she did, she didn't do it well. Tyra Collette usually got even with whatever it was making her upset. She smiled quickly, her voice quiet. "I'm lucky. I'm not that desperate."

A snort came from her car companion. "Sure you're not."

I'm not, really. Well, maybe a little. It was just because Vince deserved the NFL and it deserved him. The fact that he was giving it all up because he couldn't be with his mother all the time…she sighed hard. "What's going on Tyra?"

"I'm not talking about it."

It was painfully obvious that it was something to do with the divorce. She knew that Landry had filed, like Billy had said. Tim had spoken to him, just said that he would remain a friend, but fair warning, he did choose sides. The last she heard was from Mindy, saying that Tyra was going to come out to Dillon to recover. It had surprised her, she didn't think Landry would actually do it, despite their talk about it. She glanced at her left hand. Tim and her had been married for only five months. Less than that. And she was four and a half months pregnant already. Didn't take them long. Then there was Tyra. They hadn't even been married a year. Maybe like nine months, if she remembered the day right. Tim and her hadn't really been officially together. She raked her fingers through her hair, dropping her hand to the steering wheel. "You want to grab something to eat? I was just going to go home."

"I'm fine."

Okay then. She shrugged, turning off the highway and meandered her way through the neighborhood until she pulled up to the gate that led to her and Tim's house. She punched the code, pulled in through the opening gate, and waited for it to close before she drove around to park beside the stairs leading up to the front door. Tyra was already out, waiting for her as she led her around to the side door, entering the kitchen. Tim was drinking a beer and eating from the fridge. "What's up?" he asked through a mouthful of chicken.

"We do have plates."

"Too lazy."

"At least you admit it," she said, kissing his cheek. She waited for him to pat Rabbit before turning and gesturing to Tyra. "I picked someone up."

"Hey!"

She turned, thinking that he'd said that to Tyra, but stopped halfway to the stairs when Tim was giving her the frowning look. She shrugged. "What?" He seemed pissed at her for some reason. For bringing back Tyra? She hoped not. She scowled. "What's your problem?"

"Rabbit can't smell the paint upstairs, you can go up there in a few days."

Days!? "Well where the hell am I supposed to sleep!?"

"You can use my man-cave."

I am not going down there, there's probably more toxic fumes and debris than the baby's room. She shook her head. Crazy man. Absolutely crazy. She changed the subject, returning to Tyra, who was now just looking out the window. What the hell was going on with her? "Your sister-in-law is visiting us for the afternoon. She has a layover."

Tyra turned her head, as though hearing her name. She blinked. "Yes, a layover. I'm going to Los Angeles." She looked back out the window, her voice soft. "But I missed my flight because I went to see Lyla." She finally turned around completely, looking straight at them both. "I don't really know what to do," she blurted out. She pushed her hands over her face, knocking back her hair, which was an odd mix of black and red. She dropped her hands down to her sides.

The two of them exchanged a look. She could already tell that Tim was backing out of this, unsure how best to react to a scattered Tyra. It was so foreign to him, she imagined. It wasn't any better with her, she didn't know what to do either. She cleared her throat obviously. "Tim why don't I talk with Tyra outside? Go finish painting Rabbit's room."

That gave him plenty of out, so he muttered something about yeah, he had to put a second coat on the wall. He gave Tyra an odd look before he was going upstairs, leaving her to the psychological needs of his ex-girlfriend. She cleared her throat again. What am I supposed to do with this, she wondered. They weren't friends. The last time they'd ever really 'talked' was when Tyra told her about Melanie and they had that conversation over a year ago. She walked out onto the back porch, bringing Tyra with her and gestured to the wooden bench. "Have a seat."

Tyra didn't sit, choosing to lean against the porch railing. She looked out over the back, frowning again, her dark eyes shielded by the locks of hair blowing over her face in the light breeze. "You guys got a gazebo?"

"Tim quit his job, so that was his punishment."

"Building things isn't really a punishment for him. He enjoys it."

Yeah, well. She wanted a gazebo, he came home one day and announced he'd quit his job. About an hour later she announced she was pregnant. So he started building her a gazebo. "Well he's nesting now," she said, turning her head back around to peer at Tyra. She covered her stomach with her hand. "Apparently women are supposed to do it, but it's skipping me. Tim's the one preparing for the baby. He's even got a book. It's adorable."

"I can't see that."

Neither could she. Tim didn't advertise it. He'd run off after she'd told her, positively terrified. All she'd had to do was leave a message that she was going to leave him if he wasn't in this thing 100%, she wouldn't push him if he didn't want it, but she didn't want to be with him either if that was the case. So here they were, with Tim nesting and preparing and her just carting the thing around, hoping to get through the next week. She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, slyly checking it. Her heart jumped. It was the GM of the Raiders. Oh shit.

"Take the call."

No. No I won't, that'd be rude, she thought, hitting the 'ignore' button. She turned it off, pushing the phone aside on the bench and sat on her hands, turning her face up to Tyra. The sunlight was playing off her hair, giving her a halo-like effect. "No," she said, smiling tightly. She patted the bench. "This is about you."

Tyra snorted again, her arms crossed tight over her chest. She scowled down at her. "I'm not interested in being one of your charity cases Lyla. I'm just…I had a ticket to Los Angeles, my plane stopped in Dallas and instead of waiting on my flight, I left and took a cab to see you. I don't know why, but don't turn it into a big deal."

She smiled a little, her voice soft. "You were in a trance. I've been there. You just kind of…wander. Your mind wants one thing while your heart wants another. I've been there."

"Yeah? When?" Tyra sat beside her, waiting.

Oh well, lots of times, she thought, glancing back at the house for a moment before she looked down at her toes, digging them into the toe box of her ballet flats. "A lot. I can't pinpoint one exact time I mean…hell look at me in high school. My heart was doing things my mind knew was totally wrong. I kept telling myself that it was meaningless. I'd go into a trance and then I'd wake up and realize what happened." She looked sideways, whispering. "Kind of like how you realized it when you ended up in my car earlier."

That had Tyra smiling slightly. She shook her head, leaning back against the porch railings. "Landry filed for divorce for a good reason. We weren't happy. We're better friends than anything else, if that. We just…he always thought I was someone different and I…and I always wanted something else." Then why get together? Tyra was already answering that unspoken question for her, mumbling, almost to herself. "I think we only got together because we never really…really ended on a good way. We never talked about it or anything I just…I just never went to see him. Never called him back and he just said he was done. I think we needed an ending but we took it too far."

She smiled again, whispering. "I thought that with Tim, but…then we did end."

"And you guys met again as adults and now here you are."

"Well you and Landry could try," she whispered. She didn't want to force the issue. It wouldn't be right. She looked at her phone. It hadn't turned completely off. The screen was flashing with Vince's name. She ignored it this time, looking back at Tyra, who was staring at the phone. "I mean…you could try you know? Go to Los Angeles, support his career. Look at Tim. He left Dillon for me."

"Tim loves you enough to leave Dillon, with the understanding that you will be back there again some day," Tyra whispered. She looked over at her, shaking her head, the decision done. "Landry and I won't do that for each other. We're too different now. It's for the best. I mean…it's for the best, I just am having trouble wrapping my mind around it. I'm going to be divorced. I'm not even…I mean…" She laughed, wiping at her eyes. "I'm divorced! How sad is that?"

"Not that sad."

"I'm my mother."

Well now, that wasn't right at all. Lyla shook her head fervently. "No, absolutely not, you are not your mom." You're not in your fifties and acting like you're in your twenties. You're not jumping from guy to guy and letting everyone else just pass you by. You are not your mother.

That didn't appease Tyra. She shook her head again, whispering. "We eventually become our parents. Look at you."

Look at me!? Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?" she snapped. She wasn't sure what to sayt o that. Tyra might not be in the best place right now, but she wasn't going to be insulted. She frowned deeply. "I am not my parents." I have done everything in my power not to become either of my parents. Her mother was crazy, acting like a five-year old most days, probably as a result of being so ignorant and in denial about most of her life choices. Then there was Buddy. Oh God Buddy. She didn't know where to start with him.

The look she got wasn't what she wanted. A 'seriously?' look from Tyra with the eyebrow lifted and everything. In fact, it kind of reminded her of Mrs. Taylor, who probably should be having this conversation with Tyra. Or hell, even Tim, she'd let her husband talk his ex-girlfriend off a ledge before her. He was better at reading Tyra than her. She narrowed her eyes, but Tyra chuckled. "Lyla," she said softly, shrugging her shoulders. "You're not exactly like him, but you're kind of like Buddy."

Oh my God. "No I'm not!" she exclaimed. She stood quickly, walking into the house. "Tim!" He appeared a few seconds later from his mancave. She jerked her thumb out to Tyra. "Go talk to her. She thinks I'm like Buddy."

Tim's quiet pause was more than she wanted. He smiled slightly, walking by her and going to Tyra. I just don't know how to do that with her, she thought. I'm not her best friend. I'm not even really her friend. I feel bad about it, but…I don't really know what to say to someone who was divorcing their husband. She swallowed hard, wiping her hand over her face. She went into her office and took a seat at her desk. Buddy. She glanced at a picture of them at her college graduation on the corner of her desk. I'm not him, she thought. She picked up her phone. This wasn't going away.

It rang once, Vince answering. "Are you seriously trying to trade for me? You're stupider than I thought."

"I'm not talking to you about that." She pulled her roster towards her, studying it for the millionth time. She dropped it down to the desk, leaning back in her commander chair. "Vince."

He went silent. He waited a second and then whispered. "Yeah?"

"Do you think I'm like Buddy?"

Again, he paused just a second longer than she'd wanted. "Why do you ask that?"

"Well Tyra's here and she…she's upset about her divorce and mentioned she was becoming her mother and then said we all become our parents. I said I didn't think I was, but…she mentioned that I was like Buddy and then Tim didn't say anything and he's out there talking to her and I'm trying to be nice and tell her that she needs to grow up and just be with Landry because he's the nicest guy she's probably going to meet, but she wouldn't listen to me if I tried and I just…ugh!" I don't want to be my father. I don't want to be my mother. She glanced at her stomach, mumbling. "And Rabbit is kicking me and I don't want him or her to end up with Buddy or Pamela Garrity as their parents."

Vince chuckled, whispering. "You are not your parents. You have…well, sometimes you act like Buddy. Let me finish!" She closed her mouth, no longer preparing to interrupt. Fine. Speak then Vince. He sighed. "You're determined. So was Buddy. You're focused. You have a goal and you want to get there and yes, you'll do what it takes. Might seem extreme to some people, but not to you. Some of your best qualities come from Buddy. Yours are just…softer I guess."

Yeah, I guess, she thought, closing her eyes. She covered her stomach with her hand, murmuring. "I guess it just freaked me out, hearing that. You start thinking of things like…your parents and what they did with you when…" She sighed again, looking at her belly. She quirked her lip up. "When you're going to be one yourself."

He smiled on the other end. "Yeah. How are you?"

"Fine. Rabbit kicks a lot, hence the name."

"Maybe he'll play soccer."

"Bite your tongue," she laughed. She turned around, staring at the board. Just like Buddy. Yeah, well, she could sort of see that now. She smiled again, whispering. "I'm trying to get you where you need to be Vince. I'll move the earth for that. I love you."

"I love you too, but please Lyla, I'm fine. I told you, I'm just…" he sighed. "I don't know what's going to happen with me. Jason's looking at my contract and I just…I don't know. You have Smash."

"Smash is busy being a father. Maxwell was in the hospital, but he's now on a lung transplant list. Hopefully he'll be okay." She'd seen him a few weeks ago, the poor little boy now in a wheelchair because walking was too much on his weak lungs. She wiped at her eyes. This was silly. She'd taken Tyra's comments too close to heart. "I'll talk to you later Vince."

"Don't let what Tyra said get to you. She's just not in a great place now."

"I know. I don't know what went wrong there."

Vince seemed to shrug, his voice soft. "They got married too fast. They weren't right for each other. Whatever the excuse, they seemed to believe this was better for them than anything else. We just have to go with it."

Yes, I suppose we do. It didn't make sense to her but then again it sort of did. Either way, she couldn't change their minds. She said goodbye to Vince, standing up and leaving her board, going out into the kitchen, where Tim and Tyra were opening up beers. "Tyra is going to stay here tonight," Tim said clearly. He nodded towards the stairs. "And she'll be leaving for Los Angeles tomorrow."

Good. Talk to Landry, maybe work through this or something. "That's good news," she said. She covered her stomach. "I hate saying this, but I have to do some work. I'll let you guys figure out the plan for dinner." She walked over to Tim, kissing him lightly and patted his chest, whispering. "I'm not Buddy."

Tim grinned. "Sure as hell hope not, but no, you're not." He waited a second, kissing her one more time, whispering. "But you have your moments. The good ones. Only the good ones."

Good, she thought, letting go of him and going over to Tyra, where she stood on her toes to reach the tall woman, hugging her hard. She whispered into her ear, before pulling away. "I'm sorry about what happened with Landry. You're always welcome here and if you ever want to talk…"

Tyra interrupted her. "Lyla, you and I will never be able to really talk. We're just not like that." The sharpness in Tyra's tone had her drawing back. I was just trying to be nice, she thought defensively, looking a little hurt. She swallowed hard, processing it a little as Tyra walked away from her. Fine. Made a little sense. They weren't…close. They were just only nice to each other for the sake of Tim, who got anxious and nervous when they didn't get along. She drew in a deep breath, nodding slightly, but Tyra had already left the room. Fine. She wasn't a fan of fake sentiment either, but in her case it wasn't fake. Either way, she let Tyra go, looking over at Tim, who was nervously tugging on the cap of a bottle of beer.

She walked over, opening the bottle for him. "What's she going to do?" she murmured, looking up at him.

Tim took the bottle back from her, mumbled thanks, but didn't say anything for a moment. He sighed, glancing to her again, quiet. "I didn't think they'd work out. I hate it when I'm right." He frowned slightly, reaching to brush at her cheek with his fingertips. "You okay?"

"Fine."

He cocked his head, smiling a little. "You're not really like Buddy you know. Just…sometimes you both get crazy eyes where everything has to work out or else you'll kill someone." He smiled a little wider, his eyes softening around the edges. "In your case, it works. In Buddy's case…eh…there's a reason you're a manager of an NFL team and he's a Booster for a high school team."

I suppose so, she thought, chuckling. She reached up on her toes, giving him a hug. "Go talk to Tyra. She listens to you."

"I'm not matchmaker Garrity. Besides, you're better at that than me."

I'm not really that great at it. "Didn't work for Jess and Vince and they're the only couple I tried."

Tim shrugged, sipped his beer, and set it back down again. "Worked for Melanie and Jeff. Of course, you were putting them together when Melanie and I were together."

She smirked at him. "Jason was trying to break you guys up long before I entered the picture. I was just a tool but took myself out of it. You know the story. Besides, it doesn't matter, because here we are." She kissed him again, patting his chest. "I've got to go work." She flinched slightly. It still kind of hurt to think like that, but hell, she could joke with the rest of them. "Have to go pull my Buddy impersonation."

He rolled his eyes, but kissed her lightly. "Don't take it seriously. Tyra's in a bad place, she'll lash out at anyone right now."

Nice of you to see that. She kissed him again, walking around him and going down the hallway to her office. When she sat down in her chair and drew her papers towards her, she waited a second, glancing around the chaos around her. Tim had written, over the top of 'Draft Board' at the top of her board, in permanent marker 'Inside Tim's Head.' She laughed every time she saw it. Nice way to break up things. She felt the phone vibrating beneath her hand, glancing down and seeing the image of the Texans pop up. Here we go. She smirked, lifting it up. "This is Lyla," she chirped.

"Lyla." The manager on the other side sighed. "We have one week until Draft Day. I've got the first, you've got the third, but we both know what you want. You and I need to talk."

She spun around in her chair, staring at her board again. Yes. They did need to talk. She summoned her best Buddy Garrity voice, authority behind it and started to negotiate. It's what she did best.


	21. The Draft Day

**A/N:**So sorry for the delay, I was without Internet for a few days, but it gave me time to finish this chapter after some major reedits. I couldn't figure out whose POV to use, so I settled on Tim. Enjoy and thanks for the reviews :)

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**21. The Draft Day**

"Tim, honey are you biting your nails, don't do that," Tami chided, lightly moving his hand away from his mouth. She placed a beer in his hand instead. For once in his life he didn't want a beer. He set it down beside him, leaning over his knees and staring at the television screen. She rubbed is back, comfortingly, like he was sick or something. "It's going to be fine."

He swallowed hard; there'd been a permanent lump in his throat all day. That morning he'd woken up at five, because Lyla was doing jumping jacks in the sitting area next to their room. She was in the middle of some sort of prenatal fitness routine, which she'd been doing but he'd never actually seen her do it. She'd been quiet for most of the morning, so he let her just…be how she was. It had taken her a long time to get to this day. There was more than just her reputation on the line. This was her entire legacy. It would be written in history books, she'd told him the night before, even though he'd tried to tell her that it was just another day. She'd be fine, it was just this day they had to get through.

Because she'd been so nervous, he'd opted to stay out of Headquarters. He'd said goodbye to her that morning, given her a kiss, said he was proud of her, and to just do what her heart told her to do. She had her board, she had her plan, and she was sticking to it. Even he didn't know what she was doing. Billy was with her in the draft room, with the rest of the staff. They were at the Dallas house, as much as he wanted to be in Dillon right now for this, he knew that he had to be close to Lyla. Everyone was at the house. Felt like everyone. Mindy and the kids, Tyra, Lyla's family, Coach and Mrs. Taylor were in town, and even Matt and Julie had kind of randomly popped up. Then there was Becky, Luke, and Molly.

He had Molly in his lap now, the little girl crawling up to sit with him. He wrapped his arms around her, staring at the television. "What's going on?" the now seven-year old asked. She was wearing a Dallas Cowboys football uniform, complete with a helmet she'd been carting around her candy and toys in. She scowled. "I want to see Aunt Lyla and the baby. You said I could see the baby."

"You can see the baby, but its still inside Aunt Lyla."

"Like Mommy's baby?"

Becky spat out her drink, which Tim had noticed was a virgin pina colada, and began to cough. "Excuse me Molly? We do not go around telling people that!" Well that confirmed his suspicions. He'd kept his mouth shut on the whole thing; he didn't want a headslap, especially since Luke had upgraded her engagement ring and that diamond was pretty deadly.

Mindy, however had no such filter. "You're doing a crap job of hiding it," she said. Tim grinned, nodding in agreement. He could get in on this now. She gestured to him. "See? Even the moron noticed it."

Hey! I'm not a moron, he grumbled, looking at the television screen. Coach came into the room, passing him a beer to replace the one that Molly had taken out of his hand and put on the table, so he could hold her closer. He sipped the beer, setting it down again. He was too nervous to drink and it made him feel stupid. He wasn't the one on the clock yet. He glanced at Coach. "You manage to get her off your back?" he asked.

Coach shook his head, chuckling. "Your wife is persistent."

"It's the Buddy Garrity side of her."

"Tell me about it, she was even pulling out the drawl, sounded just like him when Tami got the phone the other day." Eric smiled slightly, looking down at the beer in his hands. "Thinking about it. It'd be…different, coming back here after all this time."

"There are colleges in Dallas," he said, darting a glance at Tami. He looked back at the television. Less than five minutes to go. They kept flashing the draft order. He had no idea what was going on, but they kept changing Dallas's order. Like they weren't sure where it actually was. Three, he thought like screaming at the TV. They have three. He looked over at Coach again. "You serious though?"

Eric shrugged again, leaning back on the couch. "Hey Molly, you know what's going to happen tonight?"

"No."

"Aunt Lyla's going to pick someone to be on her football team. Her professional football team. It's a big thing. Lyla is the first lady to get to do that. She's very smart, knows a lot about football." He paused, looking at Luke, who began to urge him on, pretty obviously gesturing with his hands. He rolled his eyes. "Molly, she learned all that from her dad. Do you watch football with your dad?"

He snorted; Luke had been desperate to get Molly into football, but she was more interested in acting and being dramatic. Wouldn't even listen to him when he started talking to her about it or asking her questions. Molly perked her head up, looking at him. "Really Uncle Tim? That true?"

Now it was his turn to get the obvious wave from Luke. He looked at her. "Yes. It's true. You should watch football with your Daddy."

Molly contemplated this. She finally made a split-second decision, hopping off his lap and running across the hotel room to Luke, jumping up into his arms. "Daddy! I'm going to watch football with you." It looked to Tim like Luke was about to break down and cry he was so happy. He smiled, looking back over at Buddy, who was nervously jiggling his knee up and down. It was annoying him.

He stood up, walking over to sit beside him on the couch. Here we go, he thought, leaning forward over his knee and feeling Tami lightly rub his back again. I'm fine, he wanted to say. He glanced at his hands, flinching slightly at how white his knuckles were. Damn. "It's time," Buddy said, jumping up and yelling. "It's time! It's open! The Texans are on the clock!"

Tim folded his hands, pressing his knuckles to his lips, focusing on the television. What are you going to do, he wondered. What is in your head right now Lyla Garrity? What are you doing? His eyes narrowed. The last time he saw her draft board, she'd had everything in its place and a giant '1' on the top of it. He didn't know what that meant. First pick? First…place?

"Something's happening," Tyra said, looking up from her computer. She pointed towards the television. Everyone was watching her, silent. She shrugged. "There's something going on with the Cowboys and the Browns. They traded. That's why they had the order messed up a few minutes ago."

They traded? Tim whipped his head to the television, where the Texans were still on the clock. He watched, as a breaking news alert flashed and the reporters began to chatter. _"First trade of the night comes before the first ten minutes even finishes, the Dallas Cowboys have traded their third pick of the evening to the Cleveland Browns. The Cowboys take the sixth pick of the draft and…what's happening here!?"_

"What's happening?" Tim demanded, staring at the screen as he saw an image flash saying the Cowboys got the Browns' 26th pick that evening, along with a second round pick tomorrow and a second round next year. Decent trade Garrity, but for what? Sixth place? Didn't help her with the Raiders at all…unless… "Holy shit," he exclaimed, jumping up and pushing his hands through his hair. She didn't…did she?

_"Only eight minutes to go on this pick and the Texans have traded the first pick of the NFL Draft to the Dallas Cowboys! Lyla Garrity, the brand-new manager, the Texas Tyrant, she's jumped from third to sixth to first! What in the world!"_

_"You said it, Lyla Garrity has already made a name for herself but now she's made an even bigger one, this is unprecedented, what'd she give up to the Texans for this one? First round next year, her second round she picked up from the Browns this year and her third and fourth rounds this year…that's a pretty big trade, because she won't have a pick in next year's first round. She better hope she gets a good guy this year to help carry her team over."_

What did you do, Tim wondered, closing his eyes. Damnit. I need to be there. He felt Tami come up beside him. "I should be there," he mumbled.

"Honey, don't take this the wrong way, but Lyla's never needed you to be with her. She's fine," Tami said, rubbing at his arm, hugging him against her. She patted his elbow, her voice comforting. Always comforting, that was Mrs. Taylor. He missed her. He reached over and squeezed her hand in return, still fixated on the television. She was right. Lyla didn't need him. She could make her own decisions and she clearly… "Oh my God," Tami exclaimed from beside him, as the news flashed that with only two minutes left on the clock the Dallas Cowboys had traded the first round pick they'd picked up from the Texans to the Oakland Raiders.

You did it. That's all he could think, as the terms of the deal flashed on the screen. For the first pick, the Raiders gave up their first next year along with one quarterback named Vince Howard. "She did it," he murmured, amid the screaming, mostly Becky and Regina, at the news that Vince would become a Cowboy, thanks to a nifty little loophole in his contract leaving him open to trades, even when he still had time left. That would be Jason's doing.

He smiled behind his hand, watching as the Commissioner came out to announce that the highly coveted defensive back that the Raiders were desperate to have, who would actually play well on their team, was the kid from Alabama that Lyla had been dangling in front of them. No doubt she threatened them that she'd take him and they'd balked and given up Vince. They had a backup who was good. They'd be fine. He didn't really care about them though; he was just happy for Regina, who was laughing and crying in the corner, on the phone with Vince.

I want to call her. It was all he wanted to do was hear her voice. Hear how happy she was that she'd finally done it. She'd fiddled with her board, saw what everyone needed and she hadn't given up much to get it either. Just a couple of later rounds in the end. She still had her first round pick next year and she'd snagged the Browns's 26th pick later that evening. Lyla Garrity you sneaky little devil, he thought, smiling behind his hand. He looked at his phone, lifting it up and answering, watching as the pick for the Vikings was in. "Hey Jason."

"She fucking did it. How did she do it?" Even he seemed relieved, but genuinely curious. No doubt he was.

He shook his head, his voice soft. "Lyla Garrity gets what she wants."

"She's made a name for herself, that's for damn sure. I still don't know why she had to trade with the Browns, she could have just made the deal with the Texans and then traded it off without worrying about them…" Jason trailed off, groaning. "They had three picks."

"And she stole one and still kept her first next year. She's sneaky like that."

"Oh man are they going to be pissed off at her."

"She can handle it."

"Thank God that JD McCoy got arrested or they wouldn't have been in such a rush to get to the top of the pack to pick up that USC receiver."

"Crazy how things work out sometimes," he murmured. He looked over at the clock and then back to the television. It would be awhile before the tenth pick popped up. He said goodbye to Jason and then slowly slipped out of the tangle of people. Their family was pretty damn big. Annoying too, he thought, as Mindy began to relay what Billy was telling her on the phone, how in the draft room Lyla was a cold as ice, that she'd walked in there and done what needed doing, how terrifying she'd been and all.

At the garage, he reached into his pocket for his keys, pulling his truck out and down the driveway. Several minutes later, he was heading out of suburban Dallas towards Cowboys Headquarters. It didn't take long; there was almost no one on the streets, they were all inside watching the draft, he figured, taking his time and listening to pure silence. No radio. Nothing. He wanted to just keep his mind clear. At headquarters, he parked his truck beside Lyla's Audi, which she'd driven to work that morning like it was any other day, wearing a simple black suit; the only sign he'd seen that she treated it any different than another day was that she'd put on a pair of silver high heels instead of black ones. He climbed out of the truck, going up and into the building. It was practically empty. He made his way up to her office. Everything was black. No lights on; just the weird muted shadows on the walls from screensavers on people's computers.

No Clinton at the gate either. That was weird. He pulled open the glass door, stopping in the doorway and letting it swing shut with a soft squeak of the hinge. He smiled slowly. "What? You didn't want to just walk naked on the draft room floor? That'd make a bigger splash."

At the desk, Lyla smiled. She was sitting in one of the chairs in front of her desk, rather than her tall, ergonomic commander chair. She lifted her feet, allowing him to sit on the other chair. She studied him for another moment, her dark eyes fixed on his. It was unnerving. What are you thinking, he wondered. It drove him crazy when she just stared at him. He smiled slightly. What? Another minute passed and Lyla stood up, walking over and climbed into his lap. She draped her arms around his neck, resting her head in the crook of his neck. "I want to go home," she mumbled, releasing a heavy sigh.

I wish I could make it better for you. He reached around to her back, rubbing his thumb deep between the top vertebrae of her shoulders. He heard her hiss, her neck falling back to his shoulder. "Oh," she moaned. "That's good."

"You're too tense."

"I just pulled off the biggest coup in NFL history," she mumbled, smiling and peering up at him. She tapped his nose, kissing his cheek. "Wouldn't have been able to do it, but they changed some of the rules. Multiple trades in one pick. Unlimited and all that now." She moved her lips over to hover atop his, smiling wide over her teeth. Her fingers reached up to cup his jaw. "I've got what? Almost an hour before my pick needs to be in." She sighed again, her eyes closing and she rested against him again.

You need sleep. I'm here. It's fine now, he thought, wrapping his arms around her. He felt Rabbit punch his stomach, his smile pulling again at the corner of his mouth. I know, you want to go home too. He covered her stomach with his hand, smiling into the top of her hair before mumbling. "You know who you're picking at ten?"

"Hmm…yes."

"Who?"

She chuckled. "And have you tip the press off? I don't think so."

"Is Jeff freaking out in the draft room now?"

"Jeff is at home with Melanie and their kid." She opened her eyes, staring straight ahead. She reached over, flicking at a lock of his hair. It'd been recently cut. By her, no less, so she didn't make her usual comment of how he needed a haircut. What, he wondered. You think I'm upset about Melanie? No way. It was crazy that a year ago he'd been with Melanie, living in denial, and Jason was trying to break them up. Now look at the two of them. She released a long sigh, dropping her hand to his shoulder and closed her eyes again, murmuring. "It's going to be a long night. I've still got to make a pick…" She reached for her phone, lifting it up and opened her eyes again, sighing. "How many minutes do I have again?"

He glanced at the television, which was on mute. The Texans were making their sixth pick. "You still have forty minutes."

"Enough time for a nap," she mumbled, wrapping her arms back around him again. He kissed the top of her head, smiling at her murmur of thanks. Yeah Garrity, no problem. He kicked his feet up onto the other chair, tugging it towards them a little, careful not to smash Rabbit against his stomach. He leaned back and watched the draft on mute, smiling a little at the choices certain teams made. Some could get so caught up in the hype.

But all the scroll at the bottom could say was what Lyla Garrity had managed to pull off. They kept referring to her as "The Texas Tyrant" in quotes between her first and last name. Mine, he thought. "You're mine," he mumbled.

"Hmmm…" Lyla opened one eye, chuckling. She sat up, her dark hair falling over her shoulder like a waterfall. "That's a little stalkery of you."

He frowned. "Why aren't you napping?"

"Who are we kidding? This is the biggest night of my life. Want to come to the draft room?" She shoved her feet into her high heels, walking out of the office and to the stairs. They took them slowly, both quiet as she led the charge, walking into the open doors of the raucous draft room. It softened, only slightly, as she walked to the front of the room, turning to the board. She reached up, erasing the top name and then put a big question mark.

"What are you doing?" Billy demanded.

Tim glanced at his brother, who looked like a Cowboys store threw up on him. He was decked all out and was stuffing fried chicken from the buffet in the back down his mouth. He squinted, shaking his head at Billy. He could be so damn stupid most days. "What's it matter?"

"It matters," his brother snapped, like he was involved in some super secret plan with Lyla. I bet I know more than you do about who she's going to pick, he felt like singing, clearly in the little brother mode.

Lyla turned around, her hands on her hips. "We did a big thing earlier," she said, speaking clearly. It amplified in the theater shaped room. She pointed to the board. "This board has been agonized over for months. We have interviewed and we have worked out and we have gone through game film and done all kinds of crazy things. Some players that we may have wanted…" She glanced at her head coach, who winced. She tapped the other board, with the picks for the teams that have already gone. "They're gone now. There are some out there we maybe liked and there are some we loved." She took a deep breath, her hands going to her hips, which only made her stomach jut forward, clearly showing off her imposing nature. She cocked her head, her eyes scanning the crowd. "I'm picking the person that I think will make this team better. It's why I did what I did to get Vince Howard as our quarterback. We have Smash Williams at running back. Our offensive line is one of the best in the NFL. Defense? We're pretty good too. We need a tight end, we could use another guard. I want a tackle if possible. I want another corner. I want a lot of things to make this a Super Bowl winning team but I won't get them." She smiled quickly. "But I do my best."

This was almost as good as a Coach Taylor talk, he thought, leaning against the wall, his upper lip curving upward slightly. Keep talking, he encouraged silently, nodding her along when she glanced to him. Lyla took another deep breath and grinned. "I'm picking the best. They said that I couldn't do this job. I was too much into contracts and numbers and salary caps. That I didn't know football. I couldn't see what gave a player that quality that made them rise above their faults. I will tell you right now that I can see things that even the other GMs can't and tonight when I pick the young man I am about to call." She held up her phone for emphasis. It wasn't shaking. "I will prove even more. Not that I have to prove anything to anyone. Now…" She turned back to their draft board, tapping the last spot. "Who are we going to take with our surprise second first rounder?"

He slipped out when they began to fight amongst themselves over who they'd pick, with Lyla climbing up to sit on the table, her legs crossed beneath her, listening to everyone's opinions. She'd pick someone good. He took the time to call back to the hotel, informing Mrs. Taylor that he was with Lyla in the draft room and he'd be with her the rest of the evening. She told him to enjoy himself and have fun.

Another ten or so minutes passed with him in the hallway, until Billy came out to join him. "Pretty crazy in there," he said, his hands shoved into his pockets. He glanced up, his voice soft. "Thanks Tim."

Thanks? What now? He frowned. "What'd I do for you?"

"You didn't so much as…" Billy shrugged again, grinning and gesturing to the room. "Do you know how awesome it is in there? When she was making those calls…little brother she was amazing. You'd have thrown her against the wall and had your way right then and there."

He narrowed his eyes. "I don't think so, but alright."

"No seriously, she was hot, even I almost jumped her."

"Billy I'd be very careful with where you're going right now."

His brother waved a hand carelessly in the air, smirking. "Tim she owned that room. She owned those managers. Barking orders and she knew exactly what she wanted. She got it too, that's what's even crazier and you know the funny thing?" What's that Billy, he thought, shrugging silently. Billy grinned, poking a finger into his shoulder. "The funny thing Little Bro is that for a brief second I thought they did it because she was a chick. Then I realized that they did it because she was right. It all worked out in the end. Most stressful ten minutes of my life."

I can imagine, he thought, looking towards the draft room. He smiled quickly. "Let's get back in there."

Lyla was walking out as they approached the room. "I'll be back," she said, holding her phone tight in her fist. She kissed him quickly. "Rub Rabbit for luck."

"Seems like you should be doing that."

"I already did," she said, patting her stomach and kissed him again. She smirked at them both, waving her phone. "See you in about fifteen minutes." Tim watched her walk away to the stairs, disappearing up to her office. Good on you Garrity, he thought. Do this in peace.

Plus it left some surprise for him. "She's insane," Billy said, shaking his head, grumbling. "She's going to make her first pick ever and she doesn't want to be around anyone when she does it?"

"Leave her be." He went into the draft room, sitting down in the front row, staring up at the screen. He looked over at the clock and then to the draft board, with its question mark. He nudged the head coach, who was on hold with another team. "Who did she have up there at one?"

The offensive coordinator, Moore, smiled quickly. "We have some ideas, but it was going to be a corner from Oklahoma. Very good guy. Who knows what your wife's got in her mind now. I've never met or worked with someone who could get stuck on something and never let go. In a good way though."

"Always good ways with her," he said, smiling. He narrowed his eyes at the board, pointing to the second pick. "That guard from Florida is decent."

"He'll be a solid two pick. I don't know who she's got in mind for our second first round, had no idea we were going to get one, but knowing her she's already got an idea." Moore chuckled, gesturing to him. "You know I used to know a guy at this small college in Texas. Said that he got a kid on his team who dropped out the first two weeks of school. Was so disappointed because it was one of the best raw talents he'd seen, just needed honed. Was no NFL player, but maybe could sneak in at the end if he felt like it. If he worked at it. Said he was so disappointed when the kid dropped out but he got over it. There's always more." He paused, smiling again and dropping his voice. "You know when you married Lyla, my friend called me and said he was shocked. That was the kid he wanted on his team and who dropped out. Guess he did well for himself after all."

San Antonio State. Huh. He shrugged, looking at the television as the Commissioner came out to announce the ninth pick of the draft. Cowboys were on deck. "I guess I did."

"Lyla doesn't talk about how you played football. You must have been decent."

"Not bad, if you ask some people. Wasn't going to be anything but a Panther." He took a deep breath as the large red clock in the draft room began to count down from 10. "The Cowboys are now on the clock," he mumbled, his gaze fixed on the television as the talking heads began to go back and forth on who Lyla might take. He looked at her coaching staff, the scouts, the interns, everyone. No one was looking anywhere but at the TV.

About six minutes into the clock, the news flashed on the screen. Pick was in. "Oh shit," Michaels, the head coach mumbled, scrubbing his face. "I hope like hell she got someone good."

The door pushed open, Lyla walking into the room, completely nonchalant. "Hello everyone," she drawled, walking over to sit beside him on the table, leaning back as she looked at the TV, just like everyone else. She smiled. All the eyes in the room were boring into her. She pursed her lips, murmuring. "Just watch and see."

Tim folded his hands together beneath his chin, his elbows propped on the table, looking at the TV screen. Come on, he thought, watching as the clock ran out and the Commissioner walked across the stage. "Come on," he mumbled. Hurry up. Someone turned the volume up almost as loud as it would go.

_"The Oakland Raiders have traded their tenth pick of the NFL Draft to the Dallas Cowboys. The Dallas Cowboys, with the tenth pick of the NFL Draft, pick Vonn Dane, defensive back, The Ohio State University."_

The room erupted into cheers, as Michaels the slammed his hand on the table while laughing, while the defensive guy, O'Brien, jumped up and spun in a circle. Lyla just grinned, turning to glanced at him. He silently questioned it. She'd only mentioned the DB twice to him. He was never really at the head of the pack. He was a good guy. Won a bunch of awards and stuff, but he wasn't highly lusted after by the other teams which meant….oh. He grinned at her. "You sneak."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You were always going to pick him."

She squinted. Kept to the charade. Except she couldn't help her smirk. "I still really don't know what you're talking about."

Sneaky, sneaky. Plotter, he thought, cocking his head and arching an eyebrow. You finagled all of this. "You did this on purpose. You were always going to pick him, you could have gotten him at three, ten, fifty, whatever, but you got Vince and a first round and another second round out of the deal, plus your threes and fours and fives and all the rest. You're going to reap more picks than any other team."

And she continued to smile. They stared at each other, which they could do for hours with no one breaking. It wasn't a romantic thing, but the fact that they liked to compete against each other. Without breaking her gaze with his, she chuckled. "He called me ma'am."

"He called you ma'am?" That was it? That was why she picked him? Lyla had a strange barometer for values and all that, but she wasn't this big of a kook. He rolled his eyes. "What'd he have nice teeth too? Why'd you pick him over anyone else? He wasn't the best in the draft. He's not that much of a name. You could have gotten him in the second round."

She took a deep breath, finally breaking her gaze and glancing away. "He called me ma'am. He didn't touch my stomach without asking." She rolled her eyes, grinning at him. Well that was always a reason, he thought, as she continued to explain her strange measurement system for draft picks. "He's a hell of a DB, he'll fit in well. Billy picked him out for me even. I watched him workout. His Combine scores were excellent, not that that means anything. He grew up in Texas before moving to Alabama as a kid and…" she trailed off, taking another deep breath. Here it came. The real reasons. "His father died in the military. Left behind five children, including Vonn. Mother passed away soon after. When I asked why, he said it was a broken heart."

Ah, there it was. The soft underbelly. Kids without parents. He pursed his lips, shrugging and then whispered. "So that's why?"

"Not all. I mean…I mean, he took care of his siblings and put himself through college. Played well, didn't let himself get distracted even though he is tatted up and he does wear bling and all that. Anyways…" she trailed off again, shrugging and smiling, her voice even quieter. "When I called him about fifteen minutes ago to ask him if he wanted to be a Dallas Cowboy, do you know what he said?" No, but I'm sure you'll tell me, he thought, cocking his head. Lyla smiled, her eyes crinkling from the force. "He said, 'Thank you Ms. Garrity, I hope I can make my daughter proud and not screw this up.' That's what he said. Not…not thank God and every single Apostle. No swearing or cursing or outright screaming or sobbing, I mean…he just was…wanted his kid to be proud of him. I knew I'd made a good choice."

I know you made a good choice too. "Come here," he murmured, reaching to wrap her up into his arms, kissing the top of her head. He smiled into her hair. "Love you." He waited a moment, holding her tight, before smiling and breaking up the seriousness. That was his job most of the time anyway. "So who are you picking at 26?" he asked, glancing down at her. She was just grinning. His eyes widened. "What?" Something was in her head.

"I'm not smiling about that. I'm picking Jimmy Anderson."

"What the hell!?" He spun on his heel, running after her back to the draft room, where she walked up to the board, moving his name over to the 26th pick. He gestured towards the board. This was very un-Lyla. "But he hates you! He thinks something's wrong with you because you're cooking a human and should be in the kitchen. He's not going to be able to handle sitting behind Vince."

"Which is exactly why I'm picking him."

Billy shook his head, sitting beside him. "I tell you Timmy, you got a cold woman there. Hmm! Freaking cold." He pointed up to him. "But brilliant. Hella' brilliant."

"Yeah I got that." Lyla Garrity, you just ask for trouble, he thought, watching her fight amongst her coaches. All of them had to agree. They had Jeff on the line, who was more than game for it. It was going to be a bit of a media frenzy, but he really didn't think Lyla cared. If she didn't want media frenzy, she wouldn't have done all that she'd done that evening. He looked down at his brother. "It's gonna' be awhile. You want to go get a beer?"

"I'm down for that."

"Billy!" Lyla lifted her head, snapping her fingers and pointed back to his seat. "You stay here, I might need you. Tim, don't cause trouble." She was in full manager mode.

They both exchanged a look, Billy making a face. "Whatever," he grumbled, waving his hand. "Have fun little bro."

Yeah, have fun, he thought, shaking his head and chuckling as Lyla stomped her foot in the argument she was having. He waved at her, but she didn't see him, too busy drawing up game film and pointing. Good luck guys, he thought, leaving the room and heading to the door. You're sure as hell going to need it with her.


	22. The Final Play

**A/N: **This is sort of the last regular chapter. There is an epilogue. Enjoy :)

* * *

**22. The Final Play**

"I'm not doing it."

"Oh hush."

He rolled his eyes; that was something her mother had been saying her entire life, now she was repeating it. He smirked, tempted to mention that to his wife, but well…he had soft tissue he'd prefer not to damage by voicing the notion that Lyla Garrity was repeating things like her mother. He reached into the stroller he'd been pushing slowly beside her as they meandered through the farmer's market, adjusting his daughter's blankets. "You won't be like that," he whispered, so soft that Lyla didn't hear him.

Or so he thought. "What do you mean?" she asked, turning around and standing rooted in place, narrowing her eyes at him. "What's that supposed to me, she won't be like what?"

"Um…she won't be like that person over there," he said, nodding towards what he would have called a hippie freak, but since they were in Berkeley, it was pretty given that everyone they walked by was a hippie freak. They'd extended the trip to see the Cowboys play the Raiders, which Lyla had decided to attend because it was a big freaking deal, with Vince now a Cowboy. She wanted to go to smooth things with the manager if need be, but he didn't see why. The Raiders were doing well with their new defense guy they picked up in the trade with Vince and Vince was playing the best he'd ever played, teaming with Smash.

It was only the fifth game of the season, but he was pretty sure the Cowboys were at least going to make it to the playoffs, somewhere they hadn't been in the past few years. All thanks to Lyla, he thought, smiling over at her as she leaned across a few baskets of produce, reaching for a head of broccoli. He wrinkled his nose immediately. "I'm not eating that."

"Oh hush." She shoved it into her bag, paying the man at the stand. She glared over her shoulder. "I'm making dinner tonight to thank my Mom and Kevin for their hospitality. In deference to their nutritional choices, I'm making a broccoli tart." She smiled. "And you can have a steak."

"Oh great, make your mom hate me more," Tim grumbled. Not that he cared. Buddy actually liked him. He followed her down another aisle of stands, stopping to check on Rabbit, who was snuffling as she woke up from her nap. "You awake?" he asked, reaching to adjust her hat. She sniffed, her eyes blinking open at him, revealing the mix of blue-green that were the same color as his. His heart beat a little quicker, his smile pulling slightly wider. Rabbit had only been around for six weeks but he was in love with the kid more than he'd ever thought possible.

Especially because she liked football, but Lyla insisted that her due date fell right at the beginning of football season, it didn't mean anything at all that she'd gone into labor right before the first Cowboys game of the year, delivering just in time for Vince's final touchdown pass, where the Cowboys won 21-7 over the Giants. "Can you please make sure she's not too hot?" Lyla asked, paying for more green objects. She took a bite of a piece of celery, offering it to him, but he rebuffed her advances of celery sharing. "Suit yourself."

"She's fine," he said, but he did remove on of the blankets. It was a little cool, but she was already wearing a little Panthers hoodie with her denim leggings and yellow Panther socks. The kid was only ever going to know the colors, blue and yellow and navy and silver, he thought, thinking of the hundreds of Cowboys clothes she already had in her wardrobe. He pushed her along, stopping when Rabbit sneezed several times in a row. "Oh geez," he said, reaching underneath for the baby bag, a flower quilted monstrosity that he'd overpacked, but he didn't care. Better to be prepared. He plucked some Kleenex out, reaching into the carrier to wipe at her nose and mouth, which only served to agitate her, tiny sobs coming out as she closed her eyes and lifted her fists.

Oh man, he thought, leaning in and lifted her out, kissing her cheek as she whined. "You're fine, you're fine," he cooed, patting her back, which was already calming her. She stuffed her hand into her mouth, moving against him. He turned his head, smiling sideways at her. She was like a little football that moved. "You're a good girl," he whispered, kissing her again.

"What a beautiful baby!" an older woman exclaimed, stepping over to him and reaching her finger up to Rabbit. She smiled warmly. "Oh what a pretty baby, what's her name?"

"Um," he said, frowning slightly. He shrugged. "Billie."

"Billie?" the woman asked, frowning a little. She hesitated, but then smiled tightly. "What a nice name."

"We call her Rabbit," Tim answered, smiling again. He loved freaking people out with that. He waved. "Have a nice day." He pushed the stroller forward, wondering hwere Lyla had gotten off to. "No doubt trying to give Daddy a heart attack with vegetables," he said to Rabbit. Or Billie. Billie Taylor was her name, named after his two closest family members. He'd gotten to name her since Lyla had been asleep when the nurse came around with all the paperwork. He was still sure he owed Lyla for not freaking out when she found out her firstborn daughter was named after Billy Riggins. Although he did see her eye twitch for about an hour after he broke the news.

He looked up from the stroller, stopping when he saw Lyla talking to a guy. He narrowed his eyes. Who the hell was that, he wondered, watching as she laughed at something the guy said, waving her hand and stepping a little closer as people walked around her. He wasn't jealous, just curious. He pushed the stroller towards her and she glanced sideways, lifting her hand up to rest on his shoulder, bringing him forward. "Come here, I want to introduce you to someone, Tim this is Edward Pierce. Ed, this is Tim Riggins." She paused, before smiling wide. Genuine. "My husband."

The guy, Ed, lifted a hand. Tim instantly pegged him for a yuppie, as he had a manicure. "Good to meet you," Ed said, smiling politely at him. He shook his hand and then gestured to a guy approaching them. "Lyla I wanted to introduce you to someone as well. This is Mark." He chuckled, lifting his eyebrows. "My husband."

"Oh so good to meet you," Lyla said, shaking Mark's hand as more introductions were made. She gestured to the stroller, as both Mark and Ed leaned around it, cooing at Rabbit, who was a total attention slut, in Tim's opinion, and lapped it all up, practically preening like a peacock. "This is Rabbit."

"Rabbit?" Mark laughed. "What a nickname."

"She kicked a lot," Tim said, narrowing his eyes at both men. He wanted to know who they were and how Lyla knew them. Mostly because he didn't and he thought he knew everyone that Lyla knew. He glaned at her, curious, but she wasn't explaining. He gestured towards her. "Her real name is Billie."

"How retro," Ed commented.

"Named after my brother."

"Even cuter," Mark said. He straightened up, nudging Ed. "Hey, we have to get going." He looked over at them both, smiling apologetically. "Sorry to dash, but we have an appointment with our interior decorator. Just bought an inn and we're remodeling it. It was nice meeting you Lyla."

"Same," Lyla said. She waved at them both as they walked off. "We'll get coffee next time I'm in town!"

"Look forward to it," Ed said, waving goodbye as they disappeared into the crowd.

Tim looked over at her, frowning as they walked off. "Who was that?"

"Oh Ed?" Lyla shrugged, stopping at a flower stand, reaching for a large bouquet of tulips. She sniffed them, smiling calmly. Her next words had Tim spitting out the sip of coffee he'd taken from his travel coffee mug, which had been sitting in the cupholder attached to the stroller. "Oh Ed's my ex-husband."

His eyes watered from spitting out the hot coffee and he coughed a few times, reaching into his pocket for a twenty, paying the woman at the stand for the bouquet of flowers Lyla had picked up. He'd be named if his wife paid for her own flowers. "Ex-husband?" he finally managed to get out. What she'd told him of her ex-husband had basically been that it was a foolish lark as a kid, he wanted more of a career than a marriage, and he had issues with her being more successful than him so he married some woman he'd known. His eyes widened at her nod. "You failed to mention he was gay!"

"Well he's always been gay, it just took him awhile to figure it out," Lyla said, setting the flowers in the stroller. She reached over, patting his cheek. "Besides, aren't you happy knowing that the only other man who got me to the altar is very clearly not a threat to you?"

He wrinkled his nose. Maybe. "I wasn't ever jealous," he said.

"You didn't like knowing that I'd been married and you didn't know."

"So what happened with his old wife?"

"They divorced after she found him with Mark. I hadn't kept in touch with him, I knew he moved to Berkeley but it's so strange to just run into him at a farmer's marker and of course, meet his husband." Lyla smiled wide. "Ed told me they're working on adopting a baby from Vietnam, isn't that lovely?"

"Lovely," he agreed, his tone dry. He smiled sideways at her, shaking his head. Lyla Garrity. Seriously though? He sighed again. "You could have told me he was gay."

"Why? What's the big deal?"

"You married a gay guy!"

"I married a guy I loved, I didn't know he was gay. He kept that side of himself very quiet and besides, he was in denial about it. His family was Vanderbilt elite and his uncle was a high-ranking Republican Senator, he didn't want to make it public at the risk of alienating them, which I can appreciate, but I'm happy that he's who he is and at peace with himself," Lyla said. She reached over, linking her arm with his, leaning her head on his shoulder, her voice quiet. "Just like I am with me."

He looked down at her. She was walking with her eyes closed, her head still on his shoulder, using him as the lead. Trusting. It'd been barely a year, but it felt like they'd been married for forever. He glanced down at Rabbit, sighing. "Okay fine," he blurted out, as they turned another corner, Lyla straightening up, peering at him. He sighed dramatically again. Fine Garrity, you win, pretend I never said anything, introduce me to your randomly met on the street ex-husband who it turned out was definitely no one he even had to wonder about coming back to try to win her back, not that he had to worry about her going back, but seriously though. He stopped, as she got ice cream from another stand, with two spoons. He took a scoop on his spoon, rolling his eyes. "Well say something!"

"I'm not saying anything."

"I'll do it!"

Lyla jumped on her toes, grabbing him and kissing him quickly, giggling. "Thank you baby!"

"I'm not your baby."

"Yes you are," she answered, checking her phone and groaning. Clinton. "Ugh, so apparently I cannot have a day off. Hang on." She answered it, told Clinton to tell whoever needed her to try again tomorrow, and disconnected, putting her phone back in her pocket. She fiddled with the collar of his flannel shirt. "You should wear a nice polo. Or your uniform!"

"I am not wearing my uniform, that's the douchiest thing ever." I can't believe you talked me into doing this. It was on Friday. Buddy had last minute sprung it on him. He rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to dress up, I'm not giving a speech, I'm going up there, I'm standing there while someone talks about me, and that's it." He paused, looking over at her. "Who is talking about me?"

"Why Buddy of course."

Oh hell this was going to be a nightmare, Tim thought, looking down at Rabbit, who was just looking up at him. He shook his head again. Crap. This is what happened when you married into the Garrity family, he insisted, pushing the stroller along the sidewalk as they made their way back to her mother's house.

That Friday, he stood on the sidelines of the Panther stadium, listening as Buddy talked into the microphone about his accomplishments as a Dillon Panther. This was so freaking embarrassing, he thought, rolling his eyes as his list of feats were read off. It's not that big of a deal, he felt like screaming for the entire stadium of people. They all had shown up because Smash and Vince were there; real life NFL players were in the house, to take pictures and give autographs. The rest of the team was also there, mostly because Jason was an idiot who called them all to watch this stupid display of Buddy Garrity.

Even Coach Taylor had driven in from Dallas, where he was now fully ingrained in his 'part time' quarterbacks coach job, his fulltime job at Jess's fancy academy, where she was his assistant coach. "So stupid," he mumbled, as Buddy finally announced him. He walked up towards Buddy, shaking his hands and took a picture, lifting up his ring, which he kept on a chain. Actually, Lyla kept it on a chain, because she wore it.

"Thanks for doing this Tim, I know you didn't, but well you know, Lyla thought it would be a good idea," Buddy said, handing him the plaque that showed his official induction into the Dillon High School Hall of Fame. Who the hell knew they actually had one, but apparentlyt hey did, for 'distinguished alumni who stood out at high school and beyond.' Whatever the fuck that was, he thought, looking over at Lyla, who was sitting in front of the bleachers, beside Tami and Tyra, who had a new boyfriend, who was sitting with her. He hated the guy. He wanted Landry back he thought with a slight sneer.

Until Lyla lifted up Rabbit, who was wearing a Dillon Panthers football uniform, her jersey printed with '33' and Rabbit on the back. He grinned at her. Fine. He'd suck this up, he thought, taking a few more pictures and then pointed to his teammates. "Get up here," he ordered them.

"No," Matt called.

"What are you gonna' do? Block us?" Smash shouted back, laughing with Matt. Idiots, he thought, shooting them all death glares. Smash's smile fell and he glanced at Jason, who was also frowning a little. "Um, maybe…maybe we should…"

"Yeah, we should," Matt said, jumping up quickly and running over, sheepish. "Sorry man."

"I get embarrassed, you all get embarrassed," he said. He pointed beside him. "Coach!"

"Get up here Coach!" Jason shouted from between his cupped palms. It began to egg on the entire stadium, shouting for Coach Taylor. He glanced up at Tim, smirking. "He's going to kill us."

"Not if I kill all of you, who put me up for this?" Someone had to put the bug in Buddy's ear, he didn't come to it on his own.

Jason shrugged. "Coach Taylor did. Buddy was talking to him about having to name someone from the football team, he suggested you." He cocked his head, frowning. "Tim don't look so surprised. You're very well known in Dillon. You screwed up, but look at you now, you know? You're a stay-at-home dad, you have a great life…you give back. That whole charity thing you work with through the Cowboys is good too and you don't draw attention to the fact that you teach kids with disabilities how to play football."

Yes, he did that. It was fun. He liked it and Lyla got him into helping out through a charity she supported. He still didn't see why he had to be involved in this thing, but…oh well, he thought, smiling over at her and gesturing for her to come up after they'd taken pictures with the rest of the people. He walked over to her, when she wouldn't get up, and pulled her onto the field, gesturing towards her with both hands, clapping and grinning when the stadium applauded for her, knowing full well who she was. Lyla blushed, looking over at him. "I'm going to kill you," she mumbled, when he leaned in to drop a quick kiss to her lips, because that's what the people wanted, but he wouldn't give them what most really wanted to see. She pushed him back, smiling as he took Rabbit from her arms, lifting her up into the air, careful to support her neck.

"The newest Panther!" he shouted, lowering her back down when her green eyes widened, staring around in awe at the people and all the colors and movement. He lowered her back into his arms, smiling over at Lyla. "Fun," he said, walking off the field after Buddy said his name one more time. He sat down with her, looking over at Billy, who was talking with Luke, the newly appointed head coach of the Panthers. "You want to get out of here? Rabbit's sleepy."

"She does need to get to bed," Lyla agreed. She smiled over at him, her eyebrow arching as she murmured. "You know I got the hint with the dozen daisies you left on my nightstand this morning. I also got the hint with the suggestion to Clinton that I take off the home game this weekend? And next too. And stay in Dillon for a two week vacation, with my assistant GM taking over my duties." She pulled him in, whispering into his ear. "And I know you pulled out one of my old cheerleading uniforms and put it in my closet."

His heart flipped a little. "Uh…well spring cleaning and all."

"It's fall."

He arched an eyebrow, smiling long and slow. Six weeks and all. It was about time, he thought, cocking his head. "Really?"

She pushed at his shoulder, standing up and leaving him to get the baby bag as she carried Rabbit out of the stadium, calling over her shoulder. "All the other girls warned me about it, but it's okay, I'm ready." She turned, walking backwards and grinning wide. "You coming or not?"

Tim grabbed the bag, chasing after her to the parking lot, swooping down to kiss her hard on the lips, like he should have done a few minutes ago. "I love you," he whispered. He kissed her again. "And I know Coach is the one that put me up for this, but also know it was you." It had to be her. To give him some sort of recognition, even though he didn't need it. He smiled against her mouth, whispering a moment later. "I don't need this Lyla. I'm proud of you. I don't need this."

She grew sheepish, her eyes lowering to the ground before lifting slightly to him, her voice trembling. "I wanted something for you. I get tired of always being the spotlight. It was your turn."

"I don't need it."

"But I do," she whispered, looking back up at him and swallowing hard. She reached into Rabbit's carrier, adjusting her hat. She sighed again, her voice lifting a little. "And I got it and I…I feel proud of you. I want you to know that."

Tim smiled again at her. He reached around, giving her a tight hug and kissed her temple. "I know it. Come on, let's go home." He locked Rabbit into her car carrier, facing backwards from the front of the car and climbed up into his Jeep Cherokee, which he'd gotten after trading in his truck. He couldn't imagine life without the truck, but this was safer for the kid. My God, he thought briefly, shaking his head slightly. I've really changed. He glanced over at Lyla. "Hey you know how in high school we'd kind of just run off and do our thing?"

"Yeah."

"We can still do that you know." I might have traded in the truck, might have moved to Dallas for most of the year, and hell, I might know the difference between certain types of formula and how to swaddle a baby and all, but I'm still Tim, he thought, looking over at Lyla. He reached over and took her hand, squeezing hard.

Lyla tossed her hair out of her eyes, grinning. "Remember that time when I went to see you in the training room and no one else was around? You were getting ice on your shoulder after a practice, you'd fallen asleep and Coach just left you there?" She smiled again, nudging his shoulder. "I can get into the Cowboys one when no one else is around."

He smiled. "I'll hold you to that Garrity, but for now, let's just go home."

"Let's go home." She leaned back in the seat, still holding his hand, murmuring, almost to herself. "I'm going to win the Super Bowl this year."

I don't doubt that at all, he thought, but didn't say anything, focusing on the road as he headed back to their house, with Rabbit snuffling in the back.


	23. Epilogue: The Manager

**A/N: **Epilogue. Enjoy :)

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**Epilogue: The Manager**

_Five Years Later_

"Daddy that play was ridonkulous."

"Don't tell me that, I know, hell, tell it to Coach Michaels when you see him."

"Honey stop saying that word," Lyla chastised, glancing at her five-year old, who had heard the word from Molly the other day and now insisted upon repeating it whenever she could. She leaned back in her seat, in the skybox, watching the action unfold at the Superdome in New Orleans, her eyebrow arched and watching as Smash ran like his life depended on it down the sidelines, holding the ball in the crook of his arm. She glanced at the other side of the box, where Maxwell was sitting, no longer hooked to oxygen thanks to his double lung transplant a few years before. She smiled at Smash's daughter, Laney, who was sitting beside her brother, both of them watching their father intently as Corrina watched them, making sure they didn't get into trouble.

On the other side of the box she had her father and the rest of the family. Mindy and the kids, Tyra and her new boyfriend, whom she'd introduced to them earlier like nothing was amiss, despite the fact that her new boyfriend was a dead ringer for Landry Clarke, was named Landry Clarke, and well, happened to BE Landry Clarke. Tyra was just insisting that it wasn't, to not make a big deal. Whatever, Lyla thought, her attention returning to her daughter.

The spitting image of Riggins, she was sitting in his lap, wearing her Vince Howard Cowboys jersey, clutching Tim's arms around her and watching the action below. She was obsessed with football. Which was good, she supposed, given that her mother was a General Manager for a National Football League team and her father was well…football-minded was the term that Lyla liked to use. He wasn't obsessed, nowhere near the level of her father, but he could get really into the technical aspects of it.

Such as right then, when he was explaining the mechanics of running the play that Vince and Smash had just accomplished. "It was complete," he explained to Rabbit, who was nodding along intently. He looked up at the clock. The Cowboys were down a touchdown, but if they could intercept Denver, they'd be right on track in the next two minutes before the end of the game and they'd win. She bit hard on her lower lip, watching as they lined up.

"I can't watch," Mindy exclaimed.

"Then don't," Becky said.

"Both of you shut up," Tyra snapped, equally nervous. She grabbed for Landry's hand, squeezing tight.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lyla could see Regina sitting with Corinna, Jess on the other side of her. She didn't know what was going on with jess and Vince, but they were still good friends and she knew Jess helped out with Regina, since Vince had moved to Dallas five years ago. She smiled slightly; it all worked out in the end. She looked back to the field. "Come on," she murmured, watching her defense line up. She smiled at her first ever pick for the Cowboys, Vonn Dane, as he lined up with the rest of the defense. He was good. Very, very good and he was even better since Billy had suggested she slip him in as a corner. He was great as a defensive back, but he had the long body necessary for a corner. Very long arms.

Come on, she thought, as the ball snapped. The Broncos quarterback threw a short pass to his running back, who began to take off, before hesitating and out of nowhere threw the ball across the Cowboys' defense to their wide receiver, who was on the other side, with a wide field ahead of him. Until…

"YES!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, so loud in the skybox over everyone else that Rabbit fell right off of Tim's knees, but more so because he let go of her, most of the scream resonating right in his ear.

"Crap Lyla I need a new eardrum!"

"Shut up!" she yelled, jumping up and down, screaming as Vonn ran like his life depended on it, the ball tight in his arm. She whipped her eyes to the clock, which hit :05 the instant that Vonn stepped over the line, the Broncos offense barely tackling him in time, but he was still holding the ball when everyone came up.

The Cowboys had won by a touchdown. With :05 seconds left on the clock.

I did it, she thought, suddenly falling slack into her seat, everyone throwing things, popping champagne, and the entire Superdome full of Cowboys' fans screaming in happiness as the team jumped each other and flew onto the field. We did it, she thought again.

"Mommy, Mommy!" Rabbit climbed into her lap, patting her cheeks, grinning wide. She wrapped her arms around her neck. "Mommy you won da' Super Duper Bowl!" She instantly turned serious. "Do you get a real bowl for a trophy?"

No, no baby I don't get a bowl, but I get the Vince Lombardi trophy, she thought, grabbing Rabbit and jumping up, spinning around with her and grinning. "Oh I love you! My good luck charm!" She proceeded to kiss Rabbit repeatedly, the little girl squealing happily. We did it, she thought, laughing and set Rabbit on the floor, turning to grab Tim.

Somewhere she saw a flash as a camera went off, capturing the shot of her hands on his face, kissing him like her life depended on it. She finally pulled back, smiling wide at him. "You did it," Tim whispered. He smiled so wide she thought his face might break; it was a rare sight. "You really did it."

"They did it," she said. I just picked them and traded them over the past five years to get to this moment. She looked down at the field, where the trophy was brought out, Vince, as team captain, picking it up and holding it aloft, Smash's arm around his shoulders. She smiled, Tim's arms around her and Rabbit at her side. She knelt down, picking up her girl, who was getting too big for her liking, and turned, carrying her outside.

They made their way down the stadium and to the field, where Clinton was already directing people to basically make way for her, like she was some sort of royalty. She kissed Tim quickly, about to say she'd just be a few minutes before he shook his head. "Take your time." He held Rabbit back, before she took off onto the field, his hand light on her shoulder. He looked down at her disappointed look. "You'll get your turn kid. Let Mommy have the spotlight for a moment."

She knelt down to Rabbit, wiping at her eyes, which were beginning to well with tears as the possibility of not being able to go. "Dry your eyes," she ordered, squeezing her tiny hands. She looked up at her, her voice soft. "Close them." Rabbit did as she was told, still holding her eyes, but now her eyes were closed. Keeping her voice soft, she spoke to her daughter, just the two of them in the bustling ground outside of the tunnel leading to the field. "What do you see?"

"You. Football."

"Where are you?"

They did this from time to time, so Rabbit smiled. "Playing football."

"And where am I?"

"In your chair. Ordering them around."

She grinned. "Good. Now, I'm going to go order them around for a few minutes and then I promise you can come out and you can be on the football field. How's that sound? Uncle Vince will be there."

Rabbit opened her eyes, lighting up. "Okay."

"Okay," she said, kissing her daughter's forehead. "One more for the road," she drawled, giving Tim a hard lip smack. She rubbed her lipstick off his upper lip, grinning and turned around, walking out onto the field, her eyes burning from the flashbulbs and the bright lights shining down. She made her way through the people to where the Cowboys were standing around the trophy.

"Get over here Garrity!" Smash shouted, grabbing hold of her and pulling her into the melee. He dropped a hat onto her head, proclaiming them Super Bowl Champions. "I tell you this never gets old," he said, holding his index finger up for 'number one' as more photos were taken.

She leaned over to Vince, her arm going around his shoulder, shouting over the screams, the cameras, and the questions they were getting from reporters. "I told you I'd do it," she said.

"I never said you couldn't," he laughed, kissing her cheek. He moved towards the trophy, which Lyla leaned over to take. "Don't drop it now."

Oh hell no I'm not going to drop it. She clutched the base, lifting it up and grinning before leaning in and pressing her lips to the cool crystal, beaming at the cameras taking her photo. She glanced out of the corner of her eye, seeing Clinton approaching with Rabbit, who was just gaping at everything. She walked through the crowd of massive football players, reaching her arms up to Vince, who knelt and lifted her up, setting her on his shoulder and dropped his hat onto her head.

It all worked out, Lyla thought, lifting the trophy higher. "Yeah!" she shouted, shaking the damn thing. She'd never been happier. Well, actually she had, she thought, turning to one of the prominent ESPN reporters. "Hey Chad," she said, still beaming.

"Lyla Garrity you've broken records since becoming manager of the Cowboys, how does this compare to other moments in your life?"

What a dumb question, but she knew it had be to answered. "Well it's the third best moment in my life," she said, laughing.

"Third? Dare we ask what could be better than winning the Super Bowl?"

"I didn't win it, all I did was get these guys together to win it," she corrected. She looked over at Rabbit and then turned back to the reporter, cocking her head slightly, smiling slyly. "And the two best moments in my life that will never compare are the day my daughter was born and the day I married my best friend. I probably couldn't have kept up with this without them." She turned back to look at Rabbit, still smiling before she waved at the reporter. "Thanks for your questions, there will be a press conference tomorrow. Right now, I'm off to celebrate."

She jumped over to where everyone was gathered, her eyes widened when she saw Rabbit rub her little hands together. "Billie Taylor Riggins," she warned, holding up her finger. "What did you do?" The only time she ever did that hand rub thing was when something foul was afoot. She turned, just in time to scream and close her eyes as Smash and Vonn dumped a container of Gatorade over her. She laughed, the fruit punch flavor trickling down the back of her throat and sticking to her clothes, which thankfully weren't designer. "AH!"

"Haha!" Rabbit laughed, the traitor daughter. She slipped off of Vince's shoulder, running over to hug her, getting fruit punch all over her clothes too. "You taste good Mommy."

"Get over here you little stinker," she laughed, lifting her up and hugging her tight, stepping back as the team began to gather around for some more interviews, jumping around. She did her part, made her appearance, and after a quick hug with Michaels, who had been dumped on with the blue Gatorade container, she made her way off the field, waiting until Clinton was beside her before she grabbed the nearest fluid she could find, dumping ice water on him and drenching his ever-present moleskin notebook. "Ha," she ordered, as Rabbit gasped beside her. She poked his shoulder, still grinning like a maniacal moron. "We're even."

"I don't know what you'er talking about," Clinton said, but he was smiling, even with water dripping off his bald head. He reached for her, giving her a tight hug. "Best boss ever."

Oh, she thought, feeling her heart melt a little. "Clinton," she said, still gushing as her eyes watered slightly and not from the fruit punch Gatorade making its way into her eyes from her hair. She patted his shoulder. "That's the first compliment you've ever given me in ten years."

"And it might be the last," Clinton said, chuckling. He gave her another hug. "I'll set up the press conference for tomorrow. Congratulations."

Thank you. She kissed his cheek, letting him go back to work, which he was so very good at, and looked down at Rabbit, taking her daughter's hand. "Do you get a ring Mommy? Like Daddy and Uncle Billy and Uncle Jason and Uncle Vince…" she took a deep breath, proceeding to rattle off the various names of her uncles who all had state-rings. Which was every one of them. She peered up, blinking. "Do you?"

"I do," she said, walking down the tunnel. She went into the room in the back, which was the game day dress locker room, which was a mess. She looked over at Tim, who was sitting on one of the benches, waiting on them. "And I promise that you can put it on. Just a couple of times." Rabbit had a habit of dropping small objects into even smaller crevices. Her original wedding ring was somewhere in the Dillon, Texas pipe system because of that habit. Thankfully her engagement ring had survived and been caught in time.

"You done?" Tim asked, lifting Rabbit up. He kissed her nose. "You taste like fruit punch." He passed her a towel to drive off. "And Mommy looks like it."

The Gatorade was starting to dry and she was sticky everywhere. "Let's go," she laughed, shoving the towel in Tim's face. She turned, just as Vince ran into the locker room. "Hey Vince, are you guys coming in or…"

"Naw we got interviews but Clinton said you were back here." Vince took a deep breath, covered in various flavors of Gatorade and brands of champagne. He dropped his helmet on the floor, leaning and took her shoulders, bringing her to him to kiss her cheek, grinning wide. "Thanks Lyla."

She flushed pink. "You're welcome."

"You did it."

She pushed at his shoulderpad. "You did it," she said quietly, turning her finger around to the door. "Go find Jess. You do realize she's single now, right?"

He rolled his eyes, but didn't stop smiling. "Yes ma'am." He turned, taking off out of the locker room to join the rest of his teammates again.

Lyla turned back to Tim, who was waiting patiently. "Okay, I think that's it, let's go." She still had a ton of work that evening. Press conference to get to and interviews and…well she had a lot. She reached up and wrapped her arms around Tim again. "Love you."

"Love you too." Tim let go, following her out of the locker room, Rabbit yawning in his arms. He nudged her back towards the hallway leading towards the main press area. "Go get cleaned up. We'll see you at home later." He smirked. "Go be the Manager."

Yup, she thought, turning and walking off down the tunnel. That's me.


End file.
